#actually surprised that 'the right words' is my top post. that's cool

[sparrowsworkshop]

I posted 40 times in 2022

That's 27 more posts than 2021!

30 posts created (75%)

10 posts reblogged (25%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@sparrowsworkshop

@onewingedsparrow

@thewritewolf

@mostlovedgirl-writes

I tagged 40 of my posts in 2022

#tloz - 25 posts

#the legend of zelda - 23 posts

#loz - 23 posts

#legend of zelda - 19 posts

#sparrow art - 19 posts

#link - 18 posts

#zelda fanart - 16 posts

#traditional art - 16 posts

#linktober - 15 posts

#linktober2022 - 14 posts

Longest Tag: 136 characters

#so many angsty prompts for today but i wanted something wholesome :) and this was the first thing that came to mind! i hope you like it!

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

“To Bee a Leader” by OneWingedSparrow; Chapter 3: Draining

t Chapter Previous Chapter Next Chapter (TBA) >> Summary:  RiD'15, post TFP. Set sometime in the first season, before the finale.  Bumblebee knows that Optimus Prime chose him to be leader of the Autobot  team on Earth…but he’s tired and he misses his dad’s leadership. Main Tags: Bumblebee & Optimus Prime, Bumblebee & Russell Clay, Father and Son Optimus and Bumblebee, Prime in Disguise Bumblebee, Light Angst, Hurt / Comfort (Adulting is hard and this ’Bee knows it well…why is he so relatable)

Chapter 3 Summary: A weary Bumblebee journals his thoughts. Reblogs are appreciated! Read on AO3 ~

An excerpt from Bumblebee's personal log.

Surprisingly, all entries— this sample included, naturally—were documented in English, rather than Cybertronian.

Perhaps the lieutenant worried his records would fall into Decepticon possession, and sought to secure them in an admittedly unconventional manner. No one knows for certain, save the author himself.

The lieutenant was...a rather curious individual.

*        *        * February 21 Earth time: 1333 hours Dear Diary, I am tired.Maybe it's physical. Likely it's not. My Energon levels have never been so full. Despite not having a Bridge off Earth, and basically being stranded, we seem to be doing okay supplies-wise. The Alchemor cargo bays remained largely intact after the crash, providing us with easy access to a decent amount of Energon cubes. No need to ration quite yet. Even so, I am trying to manage our supply efficiently. The Decepticons set loose here have given us quite a beating, but not many have stabbed past our armor, thank Primus. So why does it feel like I'm constantly draining?

If I was actually leaking, I could do something about it. I could cauterize the wound. I could apply pressure to slow my circulation. I could slap a bandage on it and drive it off, and everything would be fine. Eventually. But this is something different. Internal bleeding? Maybe. Somehow, though, I don't think anything would come up internally if I let myself be scanned. Whatever is happening is flying under the radar...and it's annoying. I just feel so...I don't know. Tired. That's the best way I can put it. I want a kind of rest that doesn't come by simply recharging. I don't know how to get this. I don't know if I can get this. I just wish...I wish my steps didn't feel so heavy all the time. I wish I could identify the problem. I wish I could put an APB on a specific target and collar it for good. For now, all I can do is keep going. Yeah, I know, I know. Ratchet's yelled at me over that so many times. Believe me, I know. Sometimes, that's the worst thing you can do when you're injured, physically or not. But sometimes that's the only thing you can do. Sometimes, it's even the right thing to do. Sometimes, it's necessary. My team needs me. Optimus needs me. I can't break down and give up just because I hurt, or just because I'm tired for some unidentified reason. One day, I'll be better. I want that. I will make sure of that. For now, though...I'll keep going. I know it's the right thing to do. ~ t Chapter Previous Chapter Next Chapter (TBA) >>

30 notes - Posted April 9, 2022

#4

For the @zelinkcommunity​ event Opposites Attract! Week 2: Flourish / Wither. Flourish (intransitive verb): 1. To grow well; to prosper; to thrive 🌱 2. To wield dramatically! 🍃💐 My first posted art for my “Deku Tree Link AU”! I had so much fun drawing this! (✿◠‿◠) In this OoT AU, Link inherited botanical powers when he was adopted by the (actual tree) former Great Deku Tree, who made him the next Guardian of the Forest. When the Hero can summon plants by a mere thought, why wouldn’t he use this gift to show his princess how much he cherishes her? Special thanks to @zeldadiarist for the inspiration for Link’s straw cape! Sketch under the cut!

31 notes - Posted November 13, 2022

#3

Fire Emblem: Three Huberts It’s his birthday today btw :D Happy Birthday, Hubert! 💜 Reblogs okay! But PLEASE DO NOT REPOST

32 notes - Posted April 17, 2022

#2

“The Song of Stormlight” by OneWingedSparrow

Inspired by this wonderful art by @louwhose!

Fic Summary: Left outside in the rain during a Weeping, bridgeman Link introduces his fellow slave Sheik to a secret about spheres.

P.S. You don’t really need to know anything about The Stormlight Archive to enjoy this fic, but I highly recommend reading the books because they are very good ;) Main Tags:  Ocarina of Time AU, Stormlight Archive Setting, Zelink, Sheik / Link, Fluff without Plot, Bridgeman!Link, Darkeyes!Link, Darkeyes!Sheik, Music, Song of Storms

Read on AO3 Written for the @zelinkcommunity Opposites Attract event! Week 4: Hidden / Revealed. Reblogs are appreciated!

~ “The spheres are singing,” Link said softly. Leaning against the bars of the cage, Sheik tilted her head. “What do you mean?” Link’s ears twitched slightly, one at a time, gradually angling in different directions like a chull’s antennae. “Can’t you hear them?” Sheik closed her eyes too and focused, but the rushing wind drowned out everything else. “It’s too loud.” “May I?” Sheik opened her eyes to find Link staring questioningly at her. She raised an eyebrow, unsure of what he requested, but somehow trusting him regardless. “I suppose?” Slowly, Link scooted closer, his hands reaching out for either side of her head. Sheik couldn’t help but tense a little as his face neared hers. Storms. His dark brown eyes were rich and warm in shade, but somehow sharp and fierce too; both welcoming and dangerous, alluring and terrible all at once. Like a barbed spear with an elaborately gilded shaft, or a beautiful Shardblade with a bloodthirsty, serrated edge. Why...why was it that darker eyes were considered inferior, again?

His hands found her ears, and gently, hesitantly, pulled the mask away from them. Not enough to unveil her face—which was fortuitous, because Sheik could feel an embarrassingly strong blush raging on her cheeks.

Thankfully, he let go quickly, and backed away into his corner of the cage. “That oughta help,” Link said, absentmindedly looking out through the bars. “You can...you can try again now, if you want.” Sheik nodded, even though he wasn’t looking her way.

The slave driver’s bag of spheres sat on the ground a few yards away, faintly aglow from within. The splintered floor of the cage scratched against her ragged clothing as she moved closer to press her nose against the cold metal bars. Torrential rain wept down her face, but drenched as she already was, Sheik ignored it. Breathing carefully, Sheik tried once again to listen.

Splashing. Pattering. Puddles bouncing. Ripping, roaring, rushing. Her nose began to run, not unlike the steady stream thundering off the roof. A standard symphony for a Weeping. She still couldn’t hear anything new.

Until Link started singing.

Back and forth, up and down, never ending turnaround.

Bid me once to stay, else I fall away….

Colors flashed before Sheik’s eyes.

Blue. White. Purple. Green. Each glowing boldly. No distinct form, no identifiable shape. The colors took a rhythm of their own, and danced around Sheik’s vision, like some sort of musical spren. She knew not where they came from. They were gone in an instant.

But the spheres on the ground...they followed that rhythm, and pulsed to the same beat. And as Sheik stared, wide eyed and awestruck, a faint voice seemed to emerge from within them, drawn out by Link’s calling.

Seek the shore!

Dare not drown!

New beginnings can be found….

“Rid of all farewells and pain,” Sheik murmured along with their voices.

Her heart jolted. Where had the words come from? How did she know? She frantically glanced over at Link for an explanation, but instead of a sagely expression, Link possessed the biggest, brightest grin she’d ever seen on a living bridgeman.

“I thought you could hear them,” Link said with satisfaction. “What with you being musical and all that.”

Fingers shaking, Sheik pulled the mask back over her ears.

How much...did he know about her, anyway?

~

33 notes - Posted November 29, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

“The Right Words” by OneWingedSparrow

Fic Summary: Link has recovered some of his memories of Princess Zelda, but feels like he doesn't remember her as well as he ought to. One day, on a visit to Korok Forest, a particular Korok encourages him with some wisdom that opens Link's mind a little more. Tags: BotW, Zelink, Link & Koroks, Loyalty, Recovered Memories Read on AO3 Written for the @zelinkcommunity Discord server’s weekly prompt: “Reminisce.” Reblogs are appreciated! ~ When one of the Koroks invited Link into his home to chat, Link hadn’t hesitated to accept. After the existential crisis of trudging through the dizzying, maddening haze of the Lost Woods, it was a relief to take a breather in a safe place. Of course, the Korok Forest proper was calming, with its gentle breezes that carried distant giggles of Koroks and their ever spinning pinwheel blades—yet, there was something reassuring about stepping into a more secure area, surrounded by bark-scented wooden walls instead of a collection of healthy, flourishing trees that, for all their charms, reminded him far too much of the maze of sneering, rotting snags. As Link stepped inside the Great Deku Tree, he blinked rapidly to let his eyes adjust to the dimmer lighting. The interior was cozy, almost like an ordinary house—clearly well planned out, with carvings in the walls and floor that formed sturdy benches and tables, as well as leaf garments that were strung about in festive fashion. Link wondered if the Great Deku Tree had naturally grown such décor, or if the Koroks had somehow crafted them with their tiny nubs for hands. Either would be an impressive feat, but he thought it might be rude to inquire which was the case. Unsure of what else to do, Link settled himself on a bench facing the exit, where he had a clear view of his Korok friend. They were hard at work dividing a colorful assortment of fresh mushrooms that had been haphazardly plopped upon a small wooden table. They would thoughtfully pick up each mushroom individually; regard it for a moment in deep concentration, and then dutifully separate it by type, and then by size. It was oddly mesmerizing to watch. “So? Tell me about her,” the Korok merchant piped up. For a moment, they broke their rhythm in favor of jovially swinging two Stamella Shrooms around like Hestu’s maracas. “You must have plenty of good stories to share, koowee!” Link rubbed the back of his neck, quickly regretting it as his hand came away slick with sweat. “Stories...about who?” he asked distractedly, although he was fairly certain he already knew the answer.

“The princess, kikoo!” The Korok drummed the mushrooms rapidly on their little table before dropping them into their assigned group. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten her again. The Great Deku Tree would be displeased to hear that.” Link looked down at his boots, which were caked with mud and dead leaves from his trek. “I haven’t forgotten.” Even without turning, he knew the Korok was watching him expectantly. “But that doesn’t mean I remember,” Link continued, biting his lip. “I mean, I can remember a few things about her. But they’re only...well, snapshots. Pieces of my memory, torn apart and patched together, with so many holes in between. Not enough solid information for me to tell any stories.” “Anything can be made into a story,” the Korok said confidently. “It doesn’t matter if you think you don’t have enough words. All you need are the right ones.” Thoughtfully, Link wiped his hands on his tunic. His mind wandered backwards, drifting through the shadowy paths of a different type of Lost Woods, searching for even a small detail of Princess Zelda that he could somehow craft into a story. Surprisingly, it didn’t take long for him to discover one. Like...stumbling upon a Korok in a most obvious hiding spot. “She loves animals,” Link began. A smile tugged at his lips. “Dogs...frogs...horses. I think it took her a while to warm up to the horses, but after I gave her some pointers, she really enjoyed riding. Which was nice,” he mused, “because when she went riding, I got to ride too.” He paused. A new thought awakened in his mind. Riding. The sword still on his back, its weight reminding him sternly of his duty, but his hands free from that burden, preoccupied as they were with the reins. Still bound to his responsibilities, and yet, at the same time, freed from them. A strange feeling, and contradictory, but so wonderful. He would...yes, he would direct Zelda to ride her horse either beside him or directly in front of him so he could keep an eye on their surroundings. He would cautiously regard all that was ahead, scanning for any mounted Bokoblins that might cross their path, ready to draw his bow if necessary. And just like that, like arrows loosed in a frenzy, little details came rushing back to him, rapidfire. How one time—was it the first time?—they went riding out in the wilderness, her horse spooked and burst into a gallop and she dropped the reins and clung to Celestial’s mane for dear life until Link could catch up and help. How he would quietly offer her a hand up when she mounted, even though she refused his assistance for several weeks at first. Eventually...oh, eventually she came to accept his shy offer of chivalry…. How she would grow in her confidence on horseback, until she could gallop at will again and keep her reins securely in her grip, laughing at him to match her speed…. And…. And how he would try not to be distracted by how she smiled while she rode—one of the rare occasions he could see her so happy and carefree. He had to stay alert; he had to remain vigilant. But...but he kept glancing at her all the same, to see as much of that joy as he could, to keep that in his memory…. Forever. Link swallowed a lump in his throat that he hadn’t realized was there. “Koo-ee?” He shook his head, and the room he was in came back into focus. Wooden bench. Grainy floor. The rich, earthy scent of mushrooms. Something nudged his leg, gentle but uncertain. Link realized the Korok had abandoned their workstation, and was now standing before him, repeatedly poking him in obvious concern. “Is that the end of the story, koowa-kee?” He took a deep breath, and reached out to pat the Korok on the head in a timid sort of thanks. The Korok visibly relaxed, worry fading from their shiny black eyes. “No,” Link said, and meant it with all his heart. ~

39 notes - Posted September 12, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[wxnheart]

On today's episode of My Simpin' Ass Friend Asks Horny Ass Questions, we're gonna talk about the post-coital tendencies and rituals of your faves. Smanging it, babes.

Capt. John Price - The old man's got it. Will always have it. Baby, he put it down and we love it for you; you always bask in the afterglow laying on top of Price, your head buried in the crook of his neck or on his chest, breathing in his scent. If it's the former, trust that he'll have a huge 'thank-you' hickey to show the world the next day.

Gaz - An awesome round of sex is usually followed by a nice, hot shower when you're with Gaz. You two are bathing each other and exchanging kisses. You'll retire to bed sated and squeaky clean. Not for long, though.

Ghost - Simon has to have his post-coital cigarette. Just coming down from that high, staring at the ceiling. Or some shit like that. Really, you two are just vibing in quiet contentment after he dicks you down something fierce. You also found out that if he has a particularly powerful orgasm, he'll chuckle uncontrollably. It's pretty deep and rich. It's just as endearing as it is surprising to you.

Soap - Your resident golden retriever gets the munchies after sex so he always has takeout on speed dial. Sex and some good food afterward? Hell yeah.

Alejandro - Loves to cover you in kisses after sex. Major cuddler energy. Loves skin-to-skin contact and cuddling because it keeps him in the present and not too worried about what comes after when he has to get out of bed and back to work. You know how to remedy that, however. Giddyup, Cowboy.

Rudy - Simply put, you make him the little spoon. Yep. Always.

König - Like Ghost, he, too, tends to laugh but it's ALWAYS after he has sex. And it's more like a giggle than anything. It's a mixture of endorphins and the idea that he actually has sex. Yes, König, you actually fuck. The first time you heard it, he was so mortified that if he could become one with the covers, he would. You thought it so adorable and now you two have giggle fits interspersed with kisses as you're curled together in bed.

Horangi - Lmao. By post-coital routine, you mean more sex, right?

Graves - He's an interesting fellow. Likes the feel of the air on his body as he basks in the after-sex glow which is why he's in no hurry to cover up. Usually hits you with a one-liner like "Tired so soon, darlin'?" with a smirk and wink. He'll give you time to get some water and cool down. Just say the word and it's on to round two, baby.

[ectoentity]

Ectoplasm Gives You Wings - Flying Lesson

New scene for this fic! This one is a bit of a doozy: nearly 3k words just for one scene.

Masterpost/Subscription Post for this fic.

DPxDC, T-rated Genfic

Context: This scene is the second time Danny has met Red Hood.

The problem with a city like Gotham - or at least this part of it - was that there were very few open spots away from prying eyes. Even rooftops often had cameras near the access door, or looking over from the next building over. Danny got that people here were paranoid about crime and potential supervillain attacks. He didn't blame them. He just wished he had somewhere private to practice flying.

After weeks of searching, he finally found something. There was a corner of one park that looked like it had been allowed to grow wild for years. The remnants of a half-collapsed pavilion were completely overgrown with vines and flowers. There were even skinny saplings growing out of what might have once been a sandbox. People didn't go there. Danny couldn’t find any cameras aimed at it. This was as close to privacy as he could get.

Danny found a stump that was about two feet tall and stood on top of it. He spread out his wings. The muscles ached as he stretched them, too used to being folded close against his back. Danny awkwardly flapped them. It felt a bit ridiculous. He knew the basic physics of how flight worked. The air underneath the wing moved more slowly than the air on top of it, creating a pressure differential that caused lift. He just wasn't sure how that translated to flapping. Did he have to lean a certain way to get the right angle?

"Come on, Fenton. Bird brains do this every day. It can't be that hard."

He crouched down on the stump, wings arched over himself. Then he leapt into the air. He desperately flapped his wings downward. For a moment it actually worked. Instead of falling, he stayed where he was. Half a second later, the sensation was gone. Danny tilted to the side and hit the ground with a heavy thump.

"Ow."

Someone laughed. Danny shot up in an instant and spun to the source of the noise. A tall woman with red hair and green skin leaned against one of the pavilion's remaining pillars. Danny instantly knew why this part of the park was overgrown.

"You're not the kind of bird I expected to find out here," Poison Ivy said with a faint smile.

"I. Uh, I am really sorry, Ms. Ivy. I didn’t realize this was your park. I'll just..." Danny edged back towards his backpack. Poison Ivy rolled her eyes.

"As long as you don’t hurt the plants, you're fine. Stay away from the red flowers if you like keeping your limbs."

Danny stared at Poison Ivy. "What. Really? You're not gonna murder me for stepping on the grass?"

"Nature is more resilient than you think. If you get too rough, you'll get one warning." She smiled at him. Danny didn't know if that was good or not.

"My friend thinks you're cool," he blurted out when he couldn't think of anything to say. "In junior high she got detention for wearing a Justice for Ivy shirt she made. She's like. Extra-Vegan or something? I don't really get it, but she's really into environmentalism and stuff." The words sounded lame to his ears, so Danny couldn't imagine how dumb he must sound to the supervillain. Her eyebrows raised for a bit, looking a bit surprised, and then her face shifted to a muted frown.

"Well, I'm glad to know there are some children with sense." It looked like she was going to say something else, but her gaze was caught by something in the sky. Now that Danny was listening, he could hear the sound of wings. He wasn’t terribly surprised when Red Hood landed in front of them.

"Two visitors in a day? What a surprise." Ivy didn't smile at Hood, but she didn't seem like she was about to attack him either.

"You're a popular lady," Hood said. "How've you been, Ivy?"

"Just tending to my garden, keeping some rodents on their toes. I'm sure I can find something to keep you busy if you're bored."

Ivy's words were sharp, threatening in a way they hadn’t been when she was talking to Danny. He started to slowly edge his way closer to his backpack. If they were about to fight Danny didn’t want to be anywhere near it.

"Mask's keeping me busy enough, thanks," Red Hood answered. His head moved to keep track of Danny. Shit.

Apparently Ivy noticed it too. She smirked, her posture relaxing. "Oh, I see. Are you starting a little flock of your own?"

"Hell no," Danny sputtered at the same time that Hood said "Cut it, Isley." For some reason that only made Ivy smile more. Were they enemies or friends? Danny couldn't tell what was going on.

"You ought to teach your baby bird how to fly before he gets eaten, Hood."

"Hey! I'm not doing that bad."

"You landed on your face," Poison Ivy, the superpowered ecoterrorist with a doctorate, tattled. Red Hood snorted.

"I was about to offer," he said. "Sorry for trying to be polite."

Danny reached his bag and picked it up, but didn't put it on. Putting it on over his wings without going intangible was a frustrating task, and he wanted to be able to run if he had to. "I can figure it out on my own. I don’t need a babysitter."

"Do I look like a babysitter, kid?" Red Hood drawled. He dropped his hands to his sides with the palms facing Danny, as if to emphasize the twin pistols holstered at his waist. It would be a fair point to anyone whose parents didn’t regularly work on ray guns at the dinner table, Danny supposed. "I just wanna make sure you know how to get out of trouble. If you can't fly, all those things do is make you a bigger target."

Danny glared at him. That blank helmet didn't give away any indication of what Hood was thinking or how honest he was being. If there was anything he'd learned in the last few weeks, it was that good things usually came with a catch.

"For what it's worth," Poison Ivy interjected, "you're safer with Hood around than most other places in this city."

Oh great, the supervillains were teaming up against him.

"Do you offer to tutor all the homeless kids you find, or just the ones that remind you of yourself?" Danny spat. He didn't want some fruit loop in a helmet projecting on him. Poison Ivy burst out laughing like it was the funniest thing she'd ever heard. Red Hood seemed to sigh.

"I do tutor kids, actually," he grumbled. "You should come by the community center on Seventh sometime."

That caught Danny off guard. He had seen that there was a community center there, but he wasn't sure whether it was another place that would hand him back to his parents. If Red Hood was involved with it, maybe they wouldn't. Who cared about catching a runaway kid when the area's murderous gang boss was there?

"Fine," Danny said. "But we're staying here. Uh, if that's okay with you, ma'am." He belatedly looked to Poison Ivy for her approval. Danny might not entirely trust Poison Ivy, but he figured it was better to stay here than to follow Red Hood off somewhere else. Ivy had recovered from her laughing fit. She looked over at Red Hood with narrowed eyes and slightly pursed lips, thinking it over.

"As long as you both behave, you're welcome to stay."

"Thank you, Ms. Ivy."

"I promise not to step on your murder begonias," Red Hood said. Instead of being angry, Ivy just rolled her eyes.

"I'll leave you boys to it." Poison Ivy waved at them as she walked off, the branches of trees closing to block the path off behind her.

"She's a lot less murder happy than I expected," Danny commented when he figured she might be out of hearing range.

"Ivy isn't as scary evil as a lot of media claims," Red Hood said. "She won't hesitate to feed you to her plants if you come out here with a hatchet, though." He shrugged and started taking off his heavy jacket. Now that Danny was looking, he could tell it wasn't a normal jacket that he'd just cut the back out of. It was made with holes for his wings, and the fabric between the lower part of his wings and the bottom of the jacket buttoned together to look a bit like a normal jacket. Red Hood undid all the buttons before pulling the whole thing up off his wings. Danny was a bit jealous. He'd had to cut holes in his clothes, and it was a struggle to get them on right.

"Alright, kid, spread your wings out?"

Hesitantly, Danny did as he was told. He still wasn't used to seeing the limbs stretch out on the edges of his vision. Danny himself had only really gotten a good look at them once. He'd taken a nap in a mall fitting room not long after getting off the bus in Gotham. There he'd been able to take a look at his wings in the store's large mirrors. They were mostly white, with black on the lower edge of the wing. There were black lines higher up in three rows, each progressively more spotty. The pattern was the same on the back as on the front. If not for the fact that they'd gotten him chased out of his home, Danny would almost think they were pretty.

Red Hood circled around him, looking his wings over. Danny didn't know what he was looking for. Other than having wings in the first place, Danny didn't think there was anything unusual about them.

"Okay, first lesson," Red Hood said. "There are different kinds of wings. They're good for different things." He spread out his left wing all the way. "What can you tell about the shape?"

"Uh... other than big?" Danny looked back at his own wing and tried to compare it. What if he thought about them like plane wings? He knew a little bit about how those worked, and there were different types for different jobs."Yours are really long and wide. I know in planes long, skinny wings are better for distance flights, but wider wings have less drag."

"Huh. Good thinking." The gang boss sounded almost impressed. "Yeah, in birds it's something similar. Big rectangular wings are good for long, slow soaring. They've got a lot of surface area so it's easier to take off than if they were skinny. So, what do you see with yours?"

Danny nodded and considered his own wings. Now that he was looking at them, it was obvious they weren't proportioned the same. Danny’s wings were shorter, more rounded than rectangular. He couldn’t think of any planes with round wings like that.

"So mine are, what, less good at soaring?"

"That's one thing," Hood said. "But they're more maneuverable. Think of it like being an acrobat when I'm a marathon runner."

That was neat, Danny had to admit. He liked the idea of doing cool aerial tricks. That would at least make this crappy wing situation a little more bearable. Except...

"I need to get into the air first."

"We're getting to that." Red Hood opened his other wing. "Alright, I'm gonna show you how I take off in slow motion and explain what I'm doing."

Danny wasn't sure how that would work, but he nodded and watched.

"First, I lean over a bit, but not enough to make me unbalanced." Hood did so, and bent his knees a bit. "Then raise up your wings as straight up as you can." Danny watched Hood stretch his wings up, up, taller than any person could stand. "When you do your down-stroke, it's not directly down. Imagine it more like you're trying to make your wings into scoops and push the air down and away." Slowly, carefully, Hood's wings lowered. Like he said, they went more forward than down. The wingtips stretched out in front of Hood, feathers fanned out as wide as they could.

"Okay," Danny said. "I think I can do that."

Danny crouched a bit, then raised his wings straight up above him. It was kind of like stretching an arm, but it moved differently. Then Danny flapped his wings like Red Hood had demonstrated. Instantly he could feel the difference. Air caught under his wings, forcing the rest of his body up. His feet left the ground. It felt amazing. Danny almost cheered, but he realized the one flap wouldn't keep him up for long. Danny's white feathers came up for another stroke.

Instantly he hit resistance. It felt almost like his wing slipped under the air pocket it had been above before. Danny swore as his feet hit the ground and he stumbled to his knees.

"You got some air that time," Red Hood commented helpfully. "Do you know what went wrong?"

"If I knew I wouldn't have done it," Danny snapped. He was suddenly struck by how weird this situation was. A couple months ago Danny's biggest concern was keeping away from Dash when he was near a locker. Now he was getting flying lessons from the Red Hood, of all people. The guy was a crazy gangster who'd decapitated people. He'd killed the Joker. Half of Gotham talked about him like he was a monster.

But then again, Danny thought, maybe that wasn't the whole story. Ivy was supposed to be a monster, too, and she'd just treated him like a normal adult would. Danny's parents had thought...

He shuddered, forcing his thoughts back to the present. Hood was looking at him silently with his head tilted slightly to the side.

"You alright there, fledgling?"

"Would you stop calling me that?" Danny folded his arms and tried to think about how it had felt when he tried to fly. "When I tried to bring my wings up, it felt like I hit a bunch of resistance, and then I slipped."

"You kept your wings wide open when you brought them up for another flap," Hood explained. "You gotta fold the primaries in a little bit, or you'll be fighting against the air above your wing." He stretched out one wing and demonstrated by halfway folding his wing, just the first part with the largest feathers.

Danny groaned. "How do birds make this look so easy?"

Red Hood chuckled. The sound was really ominous with his helmet's weird voice filter. "The birds that don't fly get eaten." For a moment Hood gestured like he was going to say something else, but then he stilled. "Shit."

"Uh. Should I run?"

The Red Hood shook his head. "Sorry, pollito, there's something I gotta go take care of. If you want, I can meet back here in a couple nights for another lesson."

"Why?" The word was out of his mouth before Danny could think. "I don't get why you're so worried about helping me. I'm not even from here."

Instead of making another stupid joke, Red Hood stepped towards him. Danny took half a step back on instinct, and Red Hood stopped. "Look, kid. Danny. I don't care where you're from. The minute you started sleeping on my streets, you became someone I'm here to protect, alright?"

Danny wanted to roll his eyes and make some flippant comment about capes, but he couldn't. There was something real in those words. Some kind of gut feeling told him that Red Hood was being absolutely honest. He didn't know what to do with that.

"Yeah. Okay."

Hood watched him squirm for another moment before he went and picked his jacket off the overgrown picnic table. It took him a minute to slide it back on and do up the buttons on the back. Danny was still kind of jealous of how easy it looked.

"Keep practicing, pollito. I'll be back in two days." He leapt into the air and took one huge wingbeat to clear the trees. Showoff.

Danny watched him go, trying to take note of how Red Hood moved his wings in the air so he could practice it. Then his brain caught up to something.

"What the hell is a pollito?"

[tempvstas]

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐃���𝐫𝐦 𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐄𝐱𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐘𝐨𝐮

“𝘛𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶.”

Content Warnings: mentions of insecurities in Azul’s

Word Count: 1k in total

Character(s): GN!Reader(no pronouns mentioned), Riddle Rosehearts, Leona Kingscholar, Azul Ashengrotto, Kalim Al-Asim, Vil Schoenheit, Idia Shroud, Malleus Draconia

Author Notes: Hi y’all! Looks like you found the first post lol. I thought I’d start off with the dorm leaders first before anything else. Hopefully you enjoy my writing!

Vice Dorm Leaders

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Riddle Rosehearts

When speaking with others, Riddle may come off as strict and a stickler for the rules. But it’s evident how much he cherishes you, the way his gaze and tone both soften when he speaks with you, and with the way he’s more lenient to those around him. Ever studious, Riddle has always had to stay focused on a rigid schedule, but with you he feels like he can actually be himself without any worries of whether he’s being the right amount of prim and proper. Riddle will often devote much of his own precious study time to help you if you’re struggling in a certain area, I mean, he’s a top student. He’ll deny it himself, but the other members of the dorm can see that he’s visibly more comfortable and open-minded whenever you’re around. ADeuce, Trey, and Cater all tease him about his relationship with you, but he’ll vehemently try to deny that he has any attraction to you, all while staring at you through the edge of his peripheral vision, a faint blush lingering on his face.

Leona Kingscholar

Ah Leona, where do I start? I think the most obvious way he would express his affection towards you would be forcing you to play hooky with him in the botanical gardens, his head resting in your lap. Though you protest, your actions are futile as he ends up pulling you in closer, burying his face in your stomach, his arms wrapped around your waist. His face holds a neutral expression, but anyone can tell that he’s clearly relaxed as he holds you close, his ears twitching and his tail swaying back and forth. Leona knows that his rough exterior would likely drive away anyone curious enough to approach him, which confused him to no ends when you persisted in staying with him in the beginning. Now, Leona couldn’t care less who he drives away so long as you stay with him.

Azul Ashengrotto

With Azul, everything is hidden behind a façade, a ploy to try and gain your trust. His contracts give him power, and with power you could have anything you want in the palm of your hands. But with his power, Azul uses it to mask his insecurities. More often than not, if he isn’t the one in control, he wants nothing more than to curl into his octopot and never come out again. But you were different, you saw past all his flaws and chose to befriend him regardless. He’ll never openly admit it, but he can’t help the fluttering in his chest whenever he sees you. He’ll gladly give you all the meals you want from Mostro Lounge(at a discount) and anything within his means if it means you’ll continue coming back to see him again and again. 

Kalim Al-Asim

With his sunny demeanor, it’s no surprise that you and Kalim quickly became good friends. He’ll constantly shower you with praise and gifts, inviting you to extravagant feasts dedicated in your honor. Magic carpet rides late at night, just the two of you enjoying the cool nights’ breeze. He feels his heart clench in his chest whenever you smile over at him, beaming brightly at him. Or when you laugh at one of his jokes, your laughter echoing throughout the dorm. Similarly to Azul, if whatever your heart desires is within his means, he would gladly grant your wish if it means just seeing you smile or hearing you laugh once more. He feels ashamed but he’s addicted to all of you. Your dazzling personality, the way the room lights up around you. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do to make you happy. 

Vil Schoenheit

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder”, something that describes Vil to an extent. If Vil is willing to dedicate the time that he would typically use to take care of his skin and the like, means that you hold a special place in his heart. Rook’s words, not mine lol. Vil will take his time with you, while you sit comfortably in front of his vanity. He takes his time using all sorts of beauty products on you, and then doing your hair. By the time he’s finished, you’re practically glowing. He takes a step back to admire his handiwork, left rather speechless. He somehow can’t find the words to describe how absolutely amazing you look.  

Idia Shroud

Your Saturdays are reserved for one thing, and one thing only. Gaming with your duo, Idia. The two of you spend plenty of time together going through a variety of multiplayer games together. Valorant, Overwatch, Animal Crossing, Stardew Valley, you name it, you guys play it all together. The two of you spend hours upon hours just chilling together in a VC, making light conversation on the task at hand. One time, the two of you were playing Minecraft together and you made a joke about putting your Minecraft beds together. He had to mute himself so you wouldn’t hear the unholy squealing that came out of him. Both his face and his hair were bright red as he curled up in his chair, refusing to unmute. When you questioned him as to why he was suddenly so quiet, he shakily unmuted stating that he was fine. He was definitely not fine for the rest of the time the two of you were playing together. 

Malleus Draconia

Malleus has lived for so many years now and has had relationships here and there, but none of them have compared to your bond with him. When you spoke with him, carelessly I might add, and he realized that you indeed had no idea who he truly was, he went with it. He’s so used to everyone around him addressing him with respect that he can’t remember the last time someone has spoken so freely with him. You’ve surprised him in many ways, with your tenacity and perseverance, and just the way you somehow manage to overcome seemingly unbeatable odds for someone of your stature. He admires you, truly, and he hopes that you’ll be able to see him more than just that mysterious, yet intimidating someone who wanders about as he pleases.

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

Thanks for reading!!

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[leighsartworks216]

I Come With Knives Pt7

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Trying to post this quickly so I still have time for a shower before I resign myself to my fate and show up to my class suuuper behind on work. Not proofread

Warnings: blood drinking, bruises, nightmares, references to Astarion's worst memory, slight panic, swearing

Word Count: 2,784

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

I Come With Knives Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

For once, it wasn’t you suffering from visions of your past.

Now that Gale knew what haunted you, even vaguely, he wished to do what he could to keep the group leader in tip-top shape. He had suggested a potion that could remove dreams - temporarily, of course. It was a rather experimental potion, as the inventor could never remember their dreams anyway, and it was unclear whether it actually removed the dreams or simply put the user into a deeper sleep. You certainly weren’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth if it meant relief from seeing her/

No, rather, the thing that woke you up tonight was the sound of someone else’s nightmares. It took a while to process that’s what it was. You woke up bleary and disoriented, and praying falling back asleep now would not ruin the effects of the potion. And then your mind finally caught up.

Soft whimpers and quiet no’s drifted in the cool night air. They’d have disappeared under the cricket songs had you been across camp. Fortunately - or unfortunately - your bedroll was set up right by the tent the sounds came from. The rugs and pillows immediately gave away that it was Astarion’s. And suddenly, you felt rather guilty for using Gale’s potion.

You rub your eyes as you crawl from under the blanket, quietly tiptoeing your way over. You stop at the door, er, flap. Your mind, still moving slowly, chugged to figure out how to announce your presence and perhaps even wake him up (without waking the others) so you don’t just barge right in.

You try knocking, but the canvas just slides right out from under your hand.

You try clearing your throat, but he just whimpers again.

“Astarion?” you whisper-shout. You try again. Still nothing. And your brain can’t find any more options.

Biting back the guilt settling like sludge in your stomach, you take a breath and pull aside the opening.

You’re almost surprised to find a candle burning low in a metal tray, soft orange light fighting back the darkness. You don’t have to struggle to figure out why - he briefly told you of the conditions under Cazador. This was his way of staying out of complete darkness.

He writhed on top of his bedroll, sheets thrown haphazardly around. His hands swatted away at invisible specters, eyes flickering wildly under his lids, sweat gleaming on his forehead. His cries were barely more than single words, pleas to stop or go away. You wondered if you were the same during your nightmares.

Avoiding his hands, you knelt beside him. You didn’t really know how to help, but surely waking him up would be better than this? Better than whatever hell he was experiencing in his mind, be it memory or a hyperbole of events.

You reach out and touch his shoulder. In an instant, his hand is holding your wrist in a death grip. The cold touch of sharp metal is at your neck. His red eyes stare unseeing at you, dark and fearful. Your heart jumps as your tongue turns to lead. This was no empty threat.

He studies you for a tense moment. You’re too scared to breathe, worried he would see it as a threat. You can feel the blunts of his nails digging into your skin, but you don’t dare look away from his face. Any wince, any whimper, any visible or audible form of pain you should be making right now, is locked away. Instinct protects you.

He blinks. Once, twice. And then he sighs. The blade of his dagger leaves your throat first, before he realizes he’s holding you like a vice. Even once you’re free, you don’t move. But, you slowly start to breathe again. You swallow, reminding yourself over and over that this is Astarion.

“You were having a nightmare.”

He huffs and sits up, setting his dagger aside in favor of wiping the moisture off his face. “I know,” he bites out. You slowly, carefully, remove your hand from his shoulder. He doesn’t react. Sarcastically he drawls, “My apologies if I woke you.”

You clear your throat, mind finally starting to clear. “I don’t mind.”

The candle flickered and sputtered as the wick began sinking below the melted wax. He flinched at the encroaching darkness. Your own heart leapt in your chest, unwanted thoughts of what lingered in the shadows coming to get you. Even in a tent, you didn't feel safe.

“I have another candle,” you mumble, eyes lingering on the waning light for as long as you could as you headed for the door. “I’ll grab it.” The tent shuts behind you.

The moon is full and bright, the sun’s reflections scaring away the gloom. Out here, you feel like you can breathe again, but you don’t linger. You dash as quietly as possible over to the camp supplies and rummage through for another candle.

Along your journey, you’d stashed away a veritable horde of candles. Tall, thin candles; fat, stout candles; black, red, white - even a blue one. Though, you’d never used them. The dark terrified you, of course. Even the shadows cast by buildings drew you eyes as you searched for threats. You’re unsure why, but to use a candle to stave away the dark makes you feel weak. Cowardly. It was pathetic to be so scared of the dark, like a child shivering in fear under their blanket, begging their parents to keep a lamp burnt low to chase away the boogeyman.

And yet, this was not true when you considered Astarion. He used a candle at night to fight against the dark, and not once has the thought crossed your mind that he was any weaker for it. At least you know why this is: To your mind, Astarion’s fear of darkness was more deserved.

The specifics of his spawn-hood were largely unknown to you still, but you were too well-aware of the conditions Kir Parthene’s spawn were kept to believe Cazador would treat his thralls any better. Two hundred years in the dark, where you’d barely scratched the surface. It was a terrible way to think, but you couldn’t help it.

You found your stash and picked through until you found a candle almost the width of your hand across and a little taller. It would last for a couple of nights, at least. You closed the chest a little louder than intentioned and scurried under the moon back to Astarion.

You held open the flap, bathing the inside with moonlight. He hadn’t moved from his spot on the bedroll. There was no longer a trail of smoke coming off the old candle. You reached out the new one to him.

He took it with one hand and struck a match with the other, face set as he tried lighting it. Each millisecond the wick does not take the flame, the more dread you feel. You can only imagine grabbing a defective one, too far gone to light anymore, and having to leave Astarion in the dark again to fetch another. When at last it catches, you almost sigh with relief. He places it carefully on the same metal pan as the old one, where its light reaches to fill every corner. Safe.

You continue to stand, uncertain. He’d had a nightmare, but he was never as forthcoming with them as you were, and you didn’t want to overstay your welcome or cross a boundary without meaning to.

“Are you coming inside or not?”

That was as good an invitation as any. You step inside and drop the flap behind you, shutting out the cool white light of the moon in favor of the warm orange glow in here. You sit back down, a foot away. Even if you were welcome inside, you didn’t want to press it.

“I’m sorry,” you say after a moment. “I tried to find the biggest one. I should have left the flap open.”

He produces a wry smile. “I could see perfectly fine, darling. I’m perfectly accustomed to the dark.”

“But you don’t like it.”

He almost snorted, continuing sarcastically, “No, really? Whatever gave it away?”

He’s laying the bravado on thick, creating a barrier between you. You tilt your head with a frown. Even in the short time you’ve known each other, he wasn’t as defensive with his past or Cazador as he could have been. He didn’t like talking about it - you didn’t blame him - but he’d never bury the lead this much.

“What did you dream about?” He looks away, facade slipping. He wasn’t as good at hiding his emotions as he thought. “Was it Cazador?”

“What else?” he bites, but the bitterness isn’t directed toward you. He scowls deeply, the creases by his mouth becoming as deep as canyons and his eyes as dark as his past. Dark circles had formed beneath his eyes. You wonder when he last ate was.

You’d come up with the compromise shortly after he fed from your blood: He could drain any enemy he wished, feed off any foe you crossed paths with, as long as he left your companions off the table. This was a rather beneficial deal for him, and it was never usually an issue. But the only thing you’d encountered worth drinking for the last few days was the Gur, and you’d taken quick care of him.

Your heart leapt to your throat thinking of ways to help. Most likely, he’d go hunting soon, if only to distract himself from his nightmares, but the animals were never really enough. You could do what you’d done before; cut open your hand and bleed into a vessel for him to drink from. But the thought of blood on your hands again, even your own, made you feel sick. And you sure as hells weren’t letting him near your throat, lest you be reduced to protective instincts and fearful obedience.

There was one way you could help…

With a breath to gather your courage and tamp down the rising anxiety within you, you hold your wrist out for him.

He quirks a brow at the gesture.

“When was the last time you ate?” you ask. He opens his mouth. You cut him off before he can be a smart ass. “From a… thinking creature.”

“I’ll be fine as soon as the next bandit decides to try stealing the clothes off our backs. I’m sure there’s one just dying to raid us as we speak - you do always seem to attract trouble.”

The thought, even as a hypothetical, of someone lurking in the shadows at the edge of camp made chills run up your spine and raise the hairs on the back of your neck. You cursed how easily it messed with your mind.

“Please, Astarion.” You hold your wrist out more insistently, bending your hand back to expose the veins clearly. His eyes trailed along them without even intending to. “If you need food, I can help. I- I’ll tell you when to stop.”

He tore his hungry gaze from your arm to study your face. You were determined to help, even as your eyes flicker uncertainly and your throat bobs with an uneasy swallow. He remembers the spawn who were punished for your mistakes. He wondered if you saw their eyes, wet and pleading, when you looked at him. He frowned deeply.

“Are you sure, darling?” he asked, with a sort of distanced tone. Like he was preparing to test you. “I can’t imagine you’d be too keen to have a vampire biting you again.”

You huff a strained laugh, even as you tilt your head to rub your shoulder against your neck over the scar. If you touched it, you could be sure she wasn’t right there, draining you. “No, but, if you need to eat, I’ll be fine. Just,” you stare unseeing at your veins, “don’t rip anything out.”

He considers you for a moment longer, before loosely wrapping his hand around your arm and guiding you toward his mouth. There was a bruise beginning to form from when you woke him up. You bend your hand further back, trying to give him wider access. When he glances over, your head is bowed toward the ground and your eyes are shut, waiting. He watches intently as he brings it to his lips, merely brushing over the skin there. Your heart skips a beat, though from anxiety more than attraction. It continues to beat a little faster as his breath fans across your skin, coming to a head when he continues, dull teeth gliding over the short expanse of your wrist until his mouth is wide enough around it to get his fangs into position. He fears any longer of this and you’d faint. So, as gentle as he can be, he bites down.

The ice and the draining are familiar sensations, though it stings differently when it’s not coming from your neck. You can feel your blood being pulled through your body to his mouth, until he drinks enough you no longer feel even that.

It’s odd, how different he draws your lifeblood from you. You’re so used to fast gulps that dig teeth further and further in as your master swallows all she can in as short a time as possible. He takes long, methodical pulls, slowly siphoning the sanguine fluid from you. You don’t get lightheaded as quickly, and you’re able to breathe without fear of having your trachea torn out.

Your hand is first to fully numb, fingertips growing cold and pale. You think he’s supporting your arm with his other hand, holding it mid-way up your forearm, but it’s the second thing to go numb and you refuse to look to find out. An easily recognizable haze begins consuming your brain like a fog. It starts light, but grows thicker. You can keep going.

You don’t stop him. As soon as he bit you, your instincts from before kicked in - not a sound, not a single twitch - and you forgot entirely that you could stop him. You don’t know when he does, too numb and tired; you don’t even startle when his cool hand is at the back of your neck, guiding you backward.

He moves his pillow to be under your head as he lays you down. You lay there awkwardly, in a way that will undoubtedly make you ache tomorrow, but he leaves you for now. Instead, he turns his attention to your wrist.

With a roll of bandages from his pack, he delicately wraps the still lightly bleeding puncture wounds and the bruise surrounding it. Your fingers are so cold it startles him. Once he’s finished, he holds your hand in both of his and breathes as hot a breath as he can produce, trying to rub the warmth into them. It doesn’t hold, but he doesn’t let go.

Your lids flutter open, but the eyes underneath are dull and unfocused. You try to speak, but he isn’t sure what you’re trying to say, as it all comes out in one big slurred jumble. He shushes you instead.

“Sleep, love. I’ve got you.”

It takes a moment for the words to reach as you stare up at him, but then your eyes slip shut, and he can hear just how quickly sleep lowers your heart rate and evens your breaths. He sighs into the silence of his tent. The flame flickers with the air movement.

He’s satisfied, full. There really is no need for him to go out and hunt tonight. But the image of Cazador hangs just at the edge of his thoughts. The memory that haunted him: his master opening that damned tomb and smiling at the husk of a man within. Smiling at Astarion’s bloody, broken nails and hunger-crazed eyes. He knows it’s all he’ll see if he tries to rest again. Even meditation would not save him from it.

After a moment of deliberation, he resigns himself to his fate. He lets go of your hand and carefully shifts you so you lay full on his bedroll. He pulls the blanket over you, tucking it over your neck and under your chin as he’s seen you do several times before. Then, he lounges back into his mound of pillows, book in hand, and passes the time until morning. He glances up at any small movement you make, at any sound other than your even breaths. It feels silly. But, as he turns the page (though he’s absorbed none of the words on it), he cannot bring himself to even speculate on carrying you back to your own bed.

The candle burns on.

---

Tag List:

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[arecaceae175]

Whumptober Day 27: Matches, Scars

AO3 link. I'm still working my way through whumptober :D.

AND!!!! THIS IS MY 50TH WORK POSTED ON AO3!!!!!! :DDDDD

Summary: The chain relaxes in a hot spring, and Wild notices Sky has a scar that matches one of his. 1052 words. Sky & Wild.

Warnings: scars, discussion of scars, lightning scars, Sky starts to feel very uncomfortable because of discussion of scars (not graphic, doesn't reach panic attack stage)

Whump rating: 1/5. Very light-hearted vibes

Sky lowered himself into the hot spring with a long, content sigh. The heat immediately soothed his aching muscles, and the pressure of the water felt incredible. Sky sighed happily again, letting his eyes slide shut and his head fall back to rest on the rocks. The angle made the pain in his neck more pronounced, Sky realized with a wince, but he didn’t have the energy to hold his head up. 

“Sky, here,” Wild said. 

“Hm?” 

“Lift your head for me?” Wild asked. 

Sky lifted his head without opening his eyes. He heard Wild shuffling behind him. 

“Okay, good,” Wild said.

Sky dropped his head again and made a surprised noise when it landed on something soft. It kept his head raised enough that the angle didn’t put pressure on his neck. Sky smiled widely as he reached up to adjust the fabric into the perfect position. He opened his eyes to meet Wild’s above him.

“Thanks, champion,” Sky said. Wild beamed. 

Sky finished adjusting the fabric then let his arms splash back into the water. He let them float on top, making small waves with careful motions. 

On the other side of the spring, Wind and Hyrule were taking turns being thrown into the spring by Twilight. Their laughter was like music to Sky, and he relished in the sound. Sky could see Four watching closely, and Sky hoped he would set aside his maturity for long enough to play, too. 

A comfortable distance away from the splashing, Time, Warriors, and Legend were reclined comfortably in the water. Warriors and Legend were playfully arguing about something. Although Sky couldn’t hear, he suspected Time was antagonizing them on purpose, based on the man’s mischievous smirk. 

Sky chuckled softly to himself. It was a perfect day.

There was a small splash as Wild flopped into the spring. The water lapped up against Sky’s chest. The heat stung comfortably. 

“This was a great idea,” Sky said. “The heat feels so nice.”

“It has healing properties, too,” Wild said. 

“Oh, really?” Sky asked. 

Wild nodded as he pulled his hair tie out and began combing his fingers through his hair. “Yeah. The science is pretty cool, actually. Yunobo explained it to me once. The water here is connected to the great fairies springs, but there’s also a reaction that happens with some chemical I don’t remember the name of because of the heat.”

“Cool,” Sky said. They fell into comfortable silence as Wild worked on his hair and Sky worked on relaxing.  

“Hey, Sky?” Wild asked. His voice was soft and hesitant. Sky looked at him in surprise.

“Yeah?” Sky asked.

“Those lines,” Wild said. 

Sky followed his gaze. The bright lightning scars started on his hand and branched up his arm, then down the right side of his torso and all the way down his right leg. 

“They’re from lightning, right?” Wild asked. 

“They are,” Sky pushed the words out through tight throat. The nerves in his hand tingled. He kept his gaze on the water. 

“Look, I have some too! We’re matching!” Wild said. Sky blinked in surprise at the change in his tone. 

Wild jumped up in the water and pointed to his hip. The same marks arched across Wild’s hip and down his leg. Sky had never noticed them before. Wild’s body was a mosaic of scar tissue more so than the rest of them. It all blended in Sky’s mind. That was what Wild looked like, and he had never paid any more attention to it than that.

“It’s from Thunderblight,” Wild said. “Made it through rubber armor and a shock resistant elixir.”

Sky didn’t know what rubber was. He decided to focus on that, rather than the shock of the lightning coursing through his body, and the blood-boiling anxiety of I have to get this shot right- have I held onto this one for too long- is this going to fry my heart- am I going to win.

“What’s rubber?” Sky asked. He thought his voice sounded remarkably steady, considering. 

Wild paused, blinking blankly at him. “I… don’t actually know.”

And just like that, Sky felt the tension in him break. He huffed a laugh and tried to force his muscles to relax, his heartbeat to slow. 

“You used it even though you don’t know what it is?” Sky asked. 

“Course I did. I didn’t know what anything was, at first,” Wild said with a grin. Sky nodded in acquiescence. He supposed that was true. 

Wild looked at Sky’s scars again, and his expression made Sky think he was going to ask another question. 

“Can, um,” Sky asked, swallowing thickly. “Can we change the subject?”

Wild’s eyes went wide. “Of course! I’m sorry, Sky, yeah. Of course. Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. I was just- we matched, and-”

“Hey,” Sky said. He put his hands over Wild’s to still their rapid movements.

“It’s alright. You didn’t know,” Sky said. “But we’re here to relax, and I’d like to do that.”

“Yeah, totally. Sorry. We’ll do that,” Wild said. Sky smiled again, and leaned back on the fabric below his head. 

“Sky!” 

Legend’s yell came from across the spring. Sky groaned light-heartedly and reluctantly raised his head. Legend and Warriors were both rushing towards him in the water. They looked ridiculous, Sky thought, trying to move quickly through the spring. He stifled a laugh.

“You need to settle this for us. The old man can’t have a serious discussion for more than two seconds at a time,” Legend said, shooting a glare in Time’s direction. “You’ll be impartial.”

“There’s no way you’re winning this one,” Warriors said. 

“Shut it, pretty boy. Here’s the thing. I��m obviously the most fashionable hero, here-”

“Bullshit.”

“I said shut it! And since I’m obviously the most fashionable, I-”

“How are we deciding that? I think I should be in the running,” Wild said. 

“What? There’s no running, I’m just trying to make a point-”

“I dunno, I think I could give you a run for your rupees,” Wild said, complete with a shrug and a shit-eating grin to match Time’s. 

Sky stroked his chin in an imitation of deep thought. “Wild makes a good point, Vet. What’s the criteria here?”

Legend let out a strangled, frustrated noise and splashed backwards into the water.

[jasntodds]

Caving In [3]

Pairing: Gar Logan x Fem!Powered!Reader, Jason Todd x Fem!Powered!Reader

Words: 7,023

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, hurt/comfort, a nightmare, flirting, fluff, jason and reader trauma-bonding, talks of abuse (it’s not super detailed), mentions of food being withheld, gar feels like his trauma isn’t “enough” (unrelated to the trauma-bonding), mentions of death, mentions of drug addiction, mentions of bruises

Summary: ❝Tell me Atlas: What is heavier, The world or its people’s hearts?❞ You never expected your life to end up this way, turned upside down by an infamous Gotham villain. It’s been a living hell, every single day, until Dick Grayson brings you to Titans tower where you meet Gar Logan and Jason Todd.

A/N: So, this is the chapter where I decided to change who the fic was about because I mean hi lol so this chapter is Jason heavy 😂 I am easily motivated to post more often when I get feedback 😂 The first few chapters take place between season 2 episode 1 and season 2 episode 2. You can add yourself the tag list below, ask me to be tagged, or you can follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary​ and turn on notifications if you prefer that!!

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The movie came to a close twenty minutes ago, Rachel already off to her room to get some sleep but Gar and Jason are still in the living room with you asleep. Gar doesn’t want to move you, he’s never been a big fan of waking people up when they’re asleep, especially when it’s obvious they haven’t slept very much. On top of that though, he’s not sure if waking you up would scare you and then you’d burn him or something. So, he figures it might be best to just let you sleep. Jason volunteered to hang out with him for a little bit anyway.

Jason looks over and his eyes just land on you. You look peaceful and kind of nice when you’re not being a snarky bitch to him. Though, he does kind of give as good as he gets not that he’d ever admit that of course. And maybe he likes that you actually have a bit of fire in your words when you talk to him. Gar and Rachel normally brush off his mean and sarcastic comments and Dick can never be bothered. You though, you play along and maybe he thinks it’s a little fun.

“Why are you staring at her, dude? It’s weird.” Gar looks away from his phone to look at Jason.

Jason shakes his head, grabbing his own phone to scroll through Twitter. “I wasn’t staring.” He mutters, his cheeks turning a bright red.

“Yeah, you were.” Gar insists. “Don’t make it weird, she’s nice and it’s cool to have someone new around.”

“I’m not making it fucking weird, man.” Jason sighs before he looks back over, glancing between Gar and you. “You gonna go for it though?” Jason raises his brows with the question, choosing to deflect.

Gar’s eyes narrow in disbelief. “I just said don’t make it weird.” Gar’s voice goes up an octave with his words. “She’s been here a day.”

Jason chuckles more to himself than at Gar. “I’m just trying to figure out the rules. You’re my friend and I don’t wanna overstep, man.” He has this grin that absolutely says he will overstep if not told otherwise.

Gar’s forehead wrinkles with Jason’s words and if it were anyone else, maybe he’d be surprised by how fast he wants this move but it’s Jason. The same guy who uses 420 and 69 (or both together) as passcodes so Gar can’t actually be too surprised. And Gar also knows that if he doesn’t answer Jason, Jason is going to do what he wants. He’s an asshole, sure, but he’s not a half-bad friend, actually.

“I don’t know.” Gar shakes his head, almost rolling his eyes. “I haven’t thought about it.”

Jason hums. “So, I can go for it then? If I want?” Jason asks and then quickly follows up with more. “Not that I do, I’m just asking.”

“Right.” Gar deadpans and you aren’t an article of clothing they’re swapping because it’s nice or something.

You’re a living breathing human being who has the right to make your own decisions. Of course, Gar knows that’s not what Jason is getting at during this or anything. He’s asking if he can flirt or try to actually get with you if you’re interested but it doesn’t make Gar feel any better. You’ve been here a day and maybe Gar just wants you to settle in before Jason jumps down your throat about it. And, to be completely fair, Gar does think you’re very pretty but he actually wants to take the time to get know you before he decides if he’d even be interested. He’s just here having fun learning to be a Titan.

“Maybe we just let her come to us if she’s interested.” Gar proposes, a partial way to get Jason to drop it. “After, she actually gets settled.”

“Hey,” Jason defends himself, but his voice is still quieter than it normally is. “It’s just a question, she seemed to be comfortable around you is all.” Jason glances to you once more before going back to his phone. “Obviously.”

“Can we drop this? She is right here.” Gar slightly shifts in his seat, not enough to wake up you.

“She’s asleep.” Jason scoffs before looking back at Gar who just looks annoyed. “Alright, damn chill out. I’ll leave her alone for a while.”

Gar nods, not having anything else to add on the topic and Jason drops it. The boys go back to their phones and have some conversation here and there about Twitter threads and TikToks they find. Nothing substantial really comes from any of it but both of them enjoy the time. Gar actually likes hanging out with Jason like this, he hasn’t had a best friend in a long time and this feels normal to him. Turning into a tiger usually makes him feel a little freakish, especially after spending so much time at Doom Manor where they were pretty much described as freaks. It was hurtful, he just wants to be normal and having movie nights with Jason and Rachel feels normal.

It doesn’t matter how much trauma any of them have when there’s a movie on and they’re just hanging out. It’s just them and when it’s him and Jason, that’s all there is. Normalcy. Even with you, a new girl, sleeping on him. In a way, it even feels a little comforting with you laying your head on him because he’s not a scary tiger. He’s just a boy.

After another half hour, Jason leaves Gar to head to the training room. Gar tried to convince him to go to bed but Jason doesn’t listen to anyone so now it’s just Gar and you. He’s getting tired himself and he’s heavily debating on waking you up so he can go in his own bed. But, the debate doesn’t last long because suddenly, you shoot off of his shoulder, heaving for air. You sit forward, eyes wide as Gar slightly jerks away from you as a reflex.

“Are…are you okay?” He asks, leaning back over and forward to get a look at your face.

You suck in a breath, your chest heaving with every breath and your heart pounding. You barely even comprehend you’re still in the living room when Gar asks you the question. All you can do is nod and try to breathe. This is really going to be your life now? Tortured in reality by a psychopath and now tortured in a dream state by the same fucking psychopath? How the fuck is that fair? You finally escaped only to be haunted by your dreams in a place you actually kind of, sort of, feel safe in.

“Nightmare?” Gar asks, not moving from his position.

You turn your head to the right to look over your shoulder back at Gar. “Y-yeah.” You nod softly before looking forward, shaking your head. “Sorry.”

Gar’s brows furrow. “For what?”

“Uh…” No one’s asked you what you’re sorry for before. You’re always supposed to be sorry for either getting angry or upset or having a smart-ass comment. There’s always something you’re supposed to apologize for. “Falling asleep, falling asleep on you….” You pause. “Nightmare.”

“You,” Gar leans forward some more, a little closer to you to try and offer you comfort in the only way he knows how. “You don’t have to be sorry for any of that. It’s okay.”

You glance over at him and the way he looks at you make you feel like porcelain. Fragile and weak. It’s not a feeling you like very much. But his eyes are warm and kind, so kind that they make you want to tell him your whole life story without ever coming up for a breath of fresh air. And it makes you feel warm.

“Do you wanna talk about it? Sometimes it helps.” Gar offers with a welcoming but small smile.

You look over to him again, your eyes dodging his this time. You can feel the flame in your belly flickering, it wants to go out so bad. It’s been wanting to go out the last few months, the last few months you were held. At the beginning, it was bonfire in your stomach. The second even a drop of gasoline were to land, it would all blow. But the gasoline never dripped or spilled. It sat in the corner and taunted you and the flame died down. And you’re so tired of it.

You want the fight back and maybe talking about it would help you feel better but you don’t want to feel better. You want to be pissed and angry and furious and you want the fucking fire back so you can hunt the bastard down yourself. But then you look at Gar again and he’s soft. It’s like you’re this tea light and he’s a glass lamp over you. Not burning out the flame but keeping it going just enough to function.

“Um…” You pause, leaning back against the couch. “It’s just….uh…i-it’s like I’m back there again.” You admit. “A-and he-he’s right there.” You stutter while Gar watches. “J-just f-fucking taunting me, k-knowing I-I can’t do anything. Fuck.” You swallow hard, not even realizing you were practically holding your breath.

Gar turns in his spot so he can better face you, never moving away from you. “What happened?” Gar asks calmly. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” Gar adds on, never wanting you to feel pressured about it.

You hang your head, then shake it. He’s going to give you the look. The pitiful look you got when your mom died. It’s the same look everyone always gives, you’re guilty of giving the look, too but it makes you shift and it make you feel uneasy. You get it, feeling bad for people who experience trauma. It’s natural but you don’t find it comforting and maybe you would find it easier if he had something snarky to say. Make it easier with humor, it’s what you do anyway.

“W-what’s the worst thing you’ve heard someone go through?” You ask, pulling the sleeves of your hoodie over your hands.

Gar sighs, thinking about it but he didn’t think very long before he starts talking, thinking maybe if you know what he’s seen and heard, it’ll make you trust him enough to talk to him. “Rachel, probably.” He answers honestly. “Her mom, who wasn’t her real mom, was shot in front of her. Then, she was locked away,” Gar says. “Only for a few hours but locked away for her powers.” He adds in. “Then,” He pauses and your brows go up in surprise. “We found her real mom who convinced her to bring in her demon dad to save my life. He possessed all of our friends and then got them to almost beat me to death in front of her.” Gar lists, reliving all of it in quick images. “Trigon,” You look at him quizzically. “Demon dad.” Gar clarifies. “Killed her real mom and then Rachel killed him.”

You sit there for a second and you really thought you had it bad. Of course, what you went through was still terrible but you do not want to play trauma Olympics with Rachel that’s for damn sure. But, Rachel seems okay, weirdly enough. You aren’t sure how long ago all of that was but Rachel does seem okay and even happy which gives you the one thing you haven’t had in months. Hope.

“Well…okay.” You nod slowly, taking in the information.

“Oh!” Gar says, remembering to add more. “We were also being chased by people who were trying to kill her because of her powers.” Gar lets out a breath, his nonchalant add-in almost makes you laugh. What the fuck?

You blink a few times. “I….I don’t even know what to say to all of that.”

“Yeah,” Gar chuckles softly. “It was pretty crazy.”

“No fucking shit.” You laugh softly. “That’s fucked up.”

Gar nods. “Yeah, but she’s okay now.” Gar assures you.

“She seems to like it. This place help?” Your eyes glance to your hands and then back to Gar.

Gar nods once more. “Yeah,” He shrugs a shoulder. “I think it does.”

It’s helped him a little bit. But, he doesn’t think his trauma is worth talking about. It’s not as bad as Rachel’s or yours. It was a disease, sure his was different, but it was a disease and people get diseases all the time. Some people live and some people die because that’s how it works. He turns into a green tiger but is that really trauma? In the grand scheme of the conversation? Gar doesn't really think so. So, he keeps the idea of the Tower and the people helping him cope to himself.

“I-it was just…hell.” You suck in a breath, deciding to tell him a little bit. “I was there for a while and this,” You gesture over your face. “Was pretty normal.” You chew the inside of your cheek. “I-I, uh, I-I thought he was gonna…kill me for a while.” You swallow. “I think he wanted to.”

“I’m sorry.” Gar’s brows knit together with sympathy and there’s the look.

You can’t handle the look, not from him. Clearly, he’s seen and heard a lot but now maybe you don’t want to burden him with your shit. He’s been through his own and clearly knows Rachel’s, you can only assume he knows some of Jason’s shit, whatever it is. To you, Gar seems like the person everyone goes to with their problems and you don’t want to stick that burden on him. Not with eyes as caring and gentle as his. It breaks your heart to even be sitting here telling him anything. So, you quit.

“Um…” You shake your head “I’m sorry, I don’t wanna talk about it.” You shut down and Gar just nods.

“It’s okay.” Gar assures you as you get up from the couch.

“I’m…I’m gonna walk.” You fake a smile at him. “Clear my head. Thanks for letting me sleep, Gar.”

“If you need to talk, you can talk to me.” Gar stands up with you, worried he overstepped. “I didn’t mean to--”

“No.” You cut him off quickly. “You didn’t…it’s not like that. I….just. It’s so fucking fresh and you….” You suck your teeth, brows furrowing together as if you’re in pain. “You make me feel normal and I don’t wanna ruin that.” You divert your eyes to the floor. “I’m sorry…thank you.” You look back up at him before turning on your heels and head into the left hallway, disappearing into the shadows.

Gar watches you disappear, kicking himself. He thinks he made it worse. He’s just trying to be there for you but he’s slowly figuring out that that’s not something you want. Not in the talking about-it way, anyway. It’s like you just want to be distracted from it all which Gar can’t blame you for. He can only really imagine what happened from his and Jason’s little bit of research and what information you did give him. His heart aches for you but he’ll never push you to tell him anything. Instead, he goes to his room but he leaves the door cracked just in case you change your mind.

You find yourself wandering the halls until you reach the training room. There you find Jason back at the punching bag. You pull out the phone Dick gave you earlier today and it’s three in the morning. Suddenly, you feel even worse about falling asleep on Gar given how late it is. But, you choose not to focus on the guilt in your stomach and instead on Jason. You stand in the doorway, confused why he would train at this hour. Is he insane?

“Do you ever stop training?” You ask, arms crossed as you’re leaning against one of the sliding doors.

Jason jumps, spinning around quickly. “Fuck, how long have you been standing there?” Jason almost yells at you.

You snicker with a shrug. “Few seconds.”

“What do you want?” He asks and he’s as snarky as ever which makes you happy. It’s like he treats you normally. Not that the others don’t but you can tell it’s like they’re tip-toeing but Jason doesn’t.

You walk in just a few feet, looking around before looking back at Jason. “Was just walking around.”

“That’s fucking weird.”

Jason didn’t expect to see you for the rest of the night. He kind of figured if you woke up, you’d just go to your room, not walk around. Or maybe, you’d be with Gar but you’re here in the training room with him. And maybe despite the snarkiness, he wants you to stay. Maybe the comments will make you want to stay, for entertainment. You seem to like the challenge.

“You’re the one punching a bag at three in the fucking morning. You’re being weird, dude.” You snark with the raise of your brows and Jason deadpans before returning to the bag.

You watch him a little longer and this is your opportunity to ask him to help you. No one else is here and you can only assume Gar went to bed so it’s just you two. He’s clearly dedicated so maybe he’ll want to help anyway. If not, you figure you’ll just hold the little bet over his head.

You close the distance, walking over toward the punching bag. “You’re so….”

“Charming?” Jason glances at you as he punches the bag. “Amazing?” He punches again. “Hot?” He flashes a cocky grin and you sigh.

“I was gonna say snippy, actually.”

“You’re fucking annoying you know that?” Jason snarks.

“Mmm.” You click your tongue a grin pulling at your lips as you point a finger at him. “There it is.”

“Seriously, what do you want?” Jason stops, facing you with annoyance.

“Train me, Dick said I’m not ready.” You hold your head up, crossing your arms across your chest.

Jason pauses, the question catching him off guard. You don’t actually look like you’re in any condition to train, not that Jason really ever agrees with Dick. Bruce doesn’t think he should be Robin but Jason knows he’s ready to get back to it so in a way, Jason understands why you’re asking. Feeling ready, but the adults want to think they know what’s best. It’s shitty. But Jason likes a good fight.

“What happened to you?” The snarkiness leaves his voice as he nods his head up at you and you’re taken aback. Jason, not asking a snarky question? Now, that’s weird.

“Why do you wanna know?” Your voice is level, eyes slight narrowed.

Jason pauses. He’s actually just curious. He knows his motive for wanting to train harder and better and faster than everyone else but what’s yours? Unless yours is going after whoever did whatever it was to you. But now you have powers so you could just take them out with those. You don’t need the combat, really. Jason just wants to know and maybe he has a little more stake in it. He does care about it, even though he acts like he doesn’t. He’s not completely heartless. Plus, maybe it’ll give him bonus points.

“Curious.” Jason shrugs, eyes glancing from your socks to your face.

“You just wanna see all the trauma?” You raise and Jason shrugs, his brows raising quickly as if to be saying ‘why not’ and his nonchalant attitude with the mix of snark gives you enough reason to challenge him a little but take the risk in having to spill. You take a few steps towards him. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” You close the small distance between you standing just an inch away from him. Jason’s breath hitches in his throat for just a second as he looks to you. The look in your eyes sends a shiver down his spine and he’s ready to play the game.

“Asked you first.” Jason doesn’t move from his stance, instead he holds still, looking at you with his eyes locked on yours and he sees a grin coming to your face.

“Alright,” You take one step back. “But don’t make it all emotional or some shit.” You plop down on the floor in front of him, sitting with your legs crossed, Jason taking a breath finally.

He said he wouldn’t. He told Gar he’d leave you alone for a little while but what is he supposed to do when you initiate it? Jason is not gonna back down from that. And, he thinks it’s fun. You play the game and lean into the challenge instead of backing away. It’s only when Jason goes to play, too that you switch it up like a game of cat and mouse. It’s thrilling a little.

Jason chuckles but follows your lead. “You always sit on the floor?”

“You always in here?” You quip.

“Shut up.” Jason shakes his head but a smile still tugs at his lips. “So, spill your guts.”

“It’s not getting that deep, bud.” You scoff but match the smile.

This is what you were thinking when talking to Gar. Gar makes it feel vulnerable, talking about it. That’s not how you want to feel about it. You want to feel strong and fiery. It’s not Gar’s fault, you can tell it’s because he just really, truly cares and feels bad about whatever it is. But, Jason, it’s like he cares but only out of curiosity not because he’s trying to save you or help you.

“Mom was killed by the Joker,” You start, gauging Jason’s face as you talk. “Dad’s a meth addict, a great parental figure obviously.” You say sarcastically. “Went into foster care, Jerry.” You grimace with his name and you try to dodge the feeling of agony and fear when you say his name. “Was my foster dad if you can even call him that.” You scoff. “He wanted to make superhumans. He used me as a test subject, I think for himself to see if anything would work. I had so many things injected I lost count over the year. He kept me chained in a basement and because none of that was quite bad enough, the fucker decided to beat me, too when I didn’t show signs of powers. He’d withhold food, all that shit. I survived mostly off of chicken noodle soup. He beat me so bad, I guess he thought I was dead and dumped in an alley and now I’m here.” You keep your voice nonchalant and steady, listing off your past like some recap of a sitcom.

Jason keeps his eyes on you and he doesn’t know what to say. It’s rare to get him speechless but here he is, without a single word in his head. How is he even supposed to respond to that? It just sounds terrible and horrifying.

“How long did he keep you like that?” He settles on the question, knowing talking about the events in Gotham is a sore spot for him.

“A year, I think. Lost track a bit.” You answer with a shrug, silently begging him to have something snarky or sarcastic to say because now it’s all too real and you wish you could turn back the clock and not say anything.

“That’s fucked up. He’d just experiment on you and fucked you up cause he could?” Jason asks as if not really believe what he’s hearing. People are terrible.

“Mhm.” You hum.

“Fuck that guy, he’s a piece of fucking shit, alright?" There’s a fury in his voice this time and it makes you smile just a little bit. He’s not sorry, he just thinks Jerry is a shitty person.

“No shit.” You huff.

“It worked though, he gave you powers. Why the fuck wouldn’t you have used them?” Jason’s expression changes to confusion. “I’m not blaming you.” Jason defends his words, feeling like it might have come off a bit like victim blaming. “I’m just curious.”

“I was afraid he’d kill me knowing that it worked. I…uh, I learned how to stay calm when he’d come at me so I pissed him off really bad a few days ago. The calmer I was, the more angry he’d get.”

“You got him to do that to you on purpose?” Jason practically yells.

He’s not sure what he expected, really. He kind of just thought it got too bad one day. It lead you to that alley. He didn’t think you actually got someone to do that to you.

You nod, a feeling of shame taking over. “I couldn’t escape any other way. I knew if I could piss him off really really bad, he’d come at me like never before. I could pretend like he killed me or put me into a coma, caused a massive brain bleed, ya know? Something, he would dump me somewhere. It was that or he was gonna kill anyway.” You pause. “Backfired a little, he did come back and I guess thought throwing a few more punches would wake me up.”

“You just played dead the whole time?” There’s a pain in Jason’s voice and he thought this could turn into something of fun, quick-witted jokey conversation but he just feels like you kicked off a cliff. 

“Oh, no, I was actually knocked unconscious most of the time while all of it was going on.” You nod casually.

“Fuck.” Jason lets out a breath before continuing. “That’s kind of badass though.” Jason states giving you a grin, you shaking your head and jerking backward in confusion. “You just took him beating the fuck outta you. That’s fucking crazy.”

You laugh softly. “Yeah, dude’s got a hell of an arm and a kick, a-fucking-parently.” Jason’s brows raise as if to be asking for context. “Found more bruises when I showed today, got a nice boot print on my back.” A scoff leaves the back of your throat.

“Fuck that guy, alright?” Jason says, growing angry at the conversation. Who does that to someone for no reason? He kicks ass every night in Gotham as Robin but those people deserve it. What did you ever do to this guy who was supposed to protect you and keep you safe? It’s not right. “He’s a piece of shit and you didn’t deserve that shit. I'll hunt the monster down for you if I have to.”

You furrow your brows. “That’s a kind offer.”

“I’m fucking Robin!” Jason tosses his hands out, gesturing into his chest and outward again. “It’s my job to hunt those dickweeds down!”

You let out a genuine laugh. He is pretty funny actually and he’s not the Robin that let the Joker kill your mom. You actually think Jason would kill the bad guys if he were allowed to. “Mhm.” You hum. “Which is why you’re the best Robin.”

“You think so?” Jason asks, the joy in his voice makes you giggle. “I know I am but Dick and Bruce...” He pauses for a second. “They don’t think so.”

“Well, Dick and Bruce don’t know shit.” You hold your head up high, and you truly think Jason is the better Robin. You’ve seen the YouTube videos.

“Thanks.” Jason offers a sincere smile. “That why you wanna train? Hunt him down yourself kind of deal?”

“Yeah, if I ever see the piece of shit I don’t wanna give him the satisfaction of knowing it worked. I wanna beat the fuck with my bare fucking hands like he did to me.” There it is, the fire you’ve been looking for. You want him to suffer at your own hands. No one else, just you and him and you want to watch everything he worked for crash around him. You want him to be bloody and bruised and beaten like you have been for a year.

“Good, he fucking deserves it. Dick will probably hunt him down if you tell him.” Jason informs you. “He used to be a detective and he worked a lot of cases with shitty parents. I think he went out as Robin and kicked their asses.”

You smile. “Good, people who beat kids deserve what’s coming.” You laugh softly, stretching your legs out beside Jason’s and leaning back on your hands. “Your turn.”

Jason nods, pulling the leg furthest from you up so his foot is on the floor and his knee is bent while he leans back on his hands. “Dad was killed by Two-Face, mom’s a smack addict, uncle drank himself to death.” Jason rambles off as if it were nothing and your eyes squint for just a second. You’re nonchalant because it’s easier that way. Is it easier for him to be like this, too? “Gotham, right?” Jason scoffs, looks down and away from you.

“Special kind of fucked up there.” You say, not looking away from him. “I’m really sorry.” You say, your heart aching for him, something you didn’t really expect given the banter between you. “How’d you get here then?” You ask, instead of asking for details about those he lost knowing you don’t like to talk about it and assuming he probably doesn’t either.

“Caught stealing the hubcaps off the Batmobile.” Jason chuckles, his cocky grin back on his face as he looks to you, clearly proud of himself. He expects you to be impressed with his courage to steal from Batman of all people. But that’s not what your face is telling him.

Your eyes narrow and then you look up before squeezing the bridge of your nose. “Hubcaps.” Your voice is exasperated, eyes closed before looking back at him. “Fuck.”

Jason laughs, knowing what the expression is now. “What? You robbing cars?” He shakes his head. “Nah, you gotta get the hubcaps, more likely to get money from that. Less likely to get caught, too.”

“Fuck you. You got caught, too!” You glare at him.

“Because it was the fucking Batmobile.” Jason tilts his head back with a laugh. “He didn’t wanna press charges, instead, he took me in.”

“Oh, to have been so lucky.” You snark with the roll of your eyes.

“Yeah…” Jason sucks in a breath. “Sorry.”

“Nah,” You scoff with a smile. “I wish I would have been smart enough to rob the Batmobile!”

“Everyone says it was dumb.” Jason scoffs.

Bruce said it was dumb, the cop said it was dumb, Dick, Gar, Alfred, everyone but every single one of them completely neglect the need to survive. Jason's been in and out of the system his entire life. He got lucky that he didn't end up like you in all of the time he was in the system. It was lucky. He lived on the streets, no job, no GED, no diploma, he had nothing. Stealing the hubcaps off cars was how he got money for food. The Batmobile? He knew he'd get more money for it. No one wants to talk about why he did it, just that it was "dumb".

“Well, you got to move in with Batman and even if you succeeded, you would have gotten money. That’s a win-win.” You give him a smile and a laugh because you really wish you would have done it. You get it, you’re the one who gets it.

“What I said!” Jason defends.

“So, that it? Parents and guardians suck?” You pause. “So…why're you here then? I think you're a great Robin, seems a bit weird you're here." You question because you want to know what he did. If stealing hubcaps wasn't Bruce's red flag, what was it?

Jason’s face grows something sad and you’re watching, not sure what he would be sad about. He seems so happy about being Robin. What is there to be sad about? Dick said Bruce wasn’t the best, but was it that bad? Is the guy who dresses up as Batman every night actually a horrible person? Is it all just a show?

“He’s making me take a break.” Jason looks to the ground, his face settling somewhere between annoyed and sad.

You nod. “Ah, what’d ya do?”

“Well,” Jason sighs, running a hand through his hair. “There was the joyrides in the Batmobile and then riding a motorcycle in the manor.”

“I-you…I don’t know what to unpack first. Batmobile or the motorcycle. Why? For both, I guess?” You question.

Why would he risk that? Getting thrown back to the streets or worse? You run the questions through your head but you don't need to ask him because you know. It's what he does. It's what you do. You’re asking Jason to go behind Dick's back, knowing that Dick doesn't have to let you stay. It's a risk and sometimes the risk is worth it. Maybe it's genetic, to be some sort of fuck up. Or, in this case, maybe it's just environmental.

Jason shrugs. “Seemed fun, I guess.”

“You know what I think.” You point a finger at him and Jason deadpans but gestures a hand out for you to proceed. “I think he doesn’t give you enough attention.”

“You a fucking shrink now?”

“Fuck no.” You chortle. “Just an observation. Seems like you like a lot of attention.”

"And why the fuck do you think that?"

"You're a smart-ass." You chuckle as if it should have been obvious. "The risks you take, the fact everyone has something to say about you tells me you intentionally start the shit so they do talk about you. Talking about you in any context is better than being forgotten." You explain and Jason just watches you growing annoyed. He thinks he's so hard to figure out but you have him pegged in five minutes.

"Fuck you." Jason huffs. He does not like being analyzed.

"No one wants to be forgotten." Your voice is quiet and the annoyance suddenly leaves Jason with your tone. You notice the way he looks at you, not with sympathy or pity but with a genuine understanding and you deflect. "And if you keep saying fuck you, I might take you up on it." You wiggle your brows at him and Jason's jaw opens slightly, feeling as if he's just gotten whiplash.

He can play this game. He won't let you get one over on him. This is Jason's game to play and win.

"Fuck. You." Jason taunts you, leaning forward slightly.

You think it's funny. You’re just messing with him but the way he doesn't even bat an eye at it, it energizes your blood in every way. Talking and messing with Jason makes you feel so normal. He doesn't do that little dance thing that Gar does, where he's so worried about stepping on your feelings. Jason just blurts shit out and calls your bluff. It's fun.

"Tell me how you really feel." You challenge him.

Jason wants to go there because he doesn't think you'll commit to it. Maybe you'll pull away or laugh but he'll have won because he didn't back down first. It's like this silent game you're playing and Jason can't tell who the ringmaster is. He swears up and down it's him, but you take the challenge and maybe he's a little worried you'll win.

You make him feel....not useless right now. He has felt useless since being sent here. Dick didn't want him to stick around and help but he kept Rachel and Gar around. He couldn't stop Trigon, he never even stood a chance. But, with you, you don't know any of that shit. It's just you two with no expectations of anything. It's the two of you and your trauma bonding and this little game. He wants it to be a long game though, drag it out and see who wins then.

"I don't think you like attention." Jason states, your brows furrowing and you didn't expect him to be the one to back down.

“What makes you say that?”

“You’re awake when no one else is. You choose Gar to hang out with. I'm guessing you did a lot of the crime at night and not just because it was easier. It's Gotham, day crime is also pretty fucking easy. Guessing you haven't told anyone else what happened because you don't want them to look at you.” Jason explains in the same way you did but this time, with a bit more bite in his voice.

You shake your head, a smile tugging at your lips. Maybe you’re also a bit transparent around him. “Mmm who’s the wanna-be shrink now?”

“Fuck off.” Jason chuckles. “Have you told anyone else? About what happened to you?”

You shake your head. “No, uh…” You furrow your brows, shaking your head once more. “I almost told Gar but….he makes it….too…”

“Real?”

“Yeah and vulnerable. Dick’s too serious about it and I haven’t talked much to Rachel. You always have a smartass comment though. Makes it feel more like a joke. And....we have Gotham in common, ya know?”

Jason nods with understanding. He doesn’t really like talking about any of it either. None of it really. It’s why he always says it so nonchalantly. It’s easier to brush it all off than boil in the feelings of sadness and regret. It’ll eat him alive if he thinks too much about it.

“Yeah, you make it easier, too.”

“Was that something nice you just said?”

“Shut the fuck up.” Jason groans. He nods his head up at you quickly. “How bad are the bruises?” You raise one brow at him. “I’m not a complete fucking asshole, alright? I don’t actually want you to get hurt.”

He’s thinking of caving. He gets you and you get him. Jason doesn’t have confidence about where this will go by any means but he’s confident he can trust you. If it were Jason, he’d never fucking quit if he were told he couldn’t train. He’d be training recklessly if he had to. You, at least had the brains to come and ask him for help. You’re not dumb, you’re desperate and Jason gets it. But he doesn’t want to contribute to your injuries if they’re that bad.

You think for a few seconds. They’re not great. Most of them are a deeper shades which means they’re further away from healing but you have a few older ones that have turned lighter in color. You know those aren’t the ones him and Dick are concerned about. And you could lie to him, it’s not like he’s going to pin you down and check for himself. But that doesn’t really feel right. Especially with him being nice to you and honest.

“What’s your definition of bad?” You ask, just trying to see how well you need to answer his question.

“Do they hurt?” Jason asks, not sure how to answer it.

“Well, yeah they’re bruises.”

“You know what I mean.” Jason groans.

“Yeah, they hurt. Like walking kind of hurts and bending certain ways hurts.”

“And you wanna fucking train and make it worse?”

“Do you ever rest? If you get hurt being Robin, do you rest or do you train?”

“Fine.” Jason groans, knowing he’s lost the battle. “But you know you’re not gonna run into the guy this week, right? The tower is secure so you don’t have shit to worry about.”

Jason caves. Training helps him deal with the bullshit. It makes him feel like he has a purpose. Being Robin is the one thing he does really well and it makes him feel like he belongs somewhere, something he’s never felt before. All the bullshit that happened before, it doesn’t matter when he’s Robin and when he’s training. He wants to give that to you.

“I know but I wanna be prepared. I wasn’t prepared last time.” You answer honestly. You will never let anyone do that to you again.

“You’re fucking crazy, ya know?” Jason chuckles softly.

“So are you, bud.” You get up. “Well, good talk. Lots of trauma bonding, but I’m gonna try to go tot bed.” You opt to end the conversation just in case he changes his mind but you’re a little disappointed. You do enjoy talking to him. Just like this.

Jason pauses for a second, looking up at you. You’re a human person and you have similarities in your traumas. It’s a little refreshing in a fucked up kind of way. No one else really gets it because it’s different, having a parent actively abandon you is different than dying. In a way, Jason thinks it’s worse. His mom picked drugs over him. He wasn’t good enough to love, by his own mother, and the only one who’d actually get that here is you. But, he knows that you might also benefit from actually talking about it with someone who can offer some actual support about it. It did help when he talked to Gar about it once.

“You should talk to Gar.” Jason says from the floor as you were on your way out.

“About?” You turn to look at him.

“What happened to you.” Jason gets up from the floor.

“Why?” You think it’s a bit weird to bring that up and now. You both just said it’s weird making it feel vulnerable and real.

Jason shrugs. “Might help, dealing with it.” He sucks in a breath as if it’s hard for him to even say. He hates talking about it but Gar will just listen. He’s the one person Jason has actually had a heart-to-heart to about it.

“Afraid I might…break him.” You laugh softly. “Ya know? Like he’s already seen some bad shit and he is…. unfathomably kind. I don’t wanna ruin him.”

Jason huffs but there’s a smile peaking onto his face. “He looks at the ligature marks on your wrists whenever you’re not tugging on your sleeves. Whatever he’s imagining happened to you is always going to be worse than what actually happened.” Jason says, his voice a bit flat and you can see this is a struggle for him to say and you wonder why.

“Like in horror movies. Choosing not to show the violence because what we imagine will always be scarier.”

“Yeah, I’m just saying, he’s a good listener if you just wanna be pissed about it.” Jason chuckles. “He’ll let you bitch about it.”

You smile at him and shake your head. Everyone here wants to talk so much shit about him which hey, maybe he deserves usually. But, you see through his bullshit because you do the same shit. It’s not cold-hearted, it’s a coping mechanism. A way to protect yourselves from getting hurt again. You get him, you get it and it makes you happy because he gets you, too.

“You’re not so bad, Jason Todd.” There's a genuine sweetness to your eyes as you say it and Jason doesn't believe it.

“I am the best.” He opens his arms, palms up, the arrogant smile beaming.

You roll your eyes, feeling bubbles and butterflies in your stomach. “Yeah, sure, goodnight, Jason.” You emphasis his name as you turn to leave and it sends Jason’s heart spinning.

“Goodnight, Y/n.” His voice is actually kind as he watches you leave.

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Tag list: @fairyofshampoo // @italiana-20 // @jasontoddsmentaldisorders // @purplerose291 // @lovelessamai  // @makaelaseresin​ 

[itwoodbeprefect]

fic writer 20 questions

i was tagged by @luredin! thank you! <3

i feel like i've done this one (or one very like it) at some point before, but i couldn't find it when i went searching, so maybe i just read through it and composed answers in my head? or my very confused tagging system is understandably failing me.

How many works do you have on AO3?

right now, 242!

What's your total AO3 word count?

587,542.

What fandoms do you write for?

several! these days mainly starsky & hutch, but h50 is still very present too, and i think both stargate atlantis and 911 may also be worth mentioning. beyond that there's a lot of other things for which i'm working on a single fic, or there's a document with multiple of them but i only open it once in a blue moon.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

well. four out of five of these are for a fandom i wouldn't write for anymore today for obvious reasons, and the other one (Tell me I'm perfect) is a Shadowhunters fic:

It's the truth

Tell me I'm perfect (but tell me the truth)

I dare you to dare me

Finders Keepers

That escalated quickly

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

i wish i did! i keep trying to get into a healthier habit on that front, because i love comments and i'd like to say thank you and engage with people more, but it's a complicated thing - not in real life, but in my head, unfortunately.

What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

not an easy question, and it's not because there's too many to pick from! i'll indulge in a little melancholy at times, and maybe even a somewhat things-aren't-perfect ending, but generally there's at the very least a solid spark of hope even if the rest of the fic was sad. i think maybe Sobering (a mash hawk/trap fic) could qualify for actual angst, but even that one i seem to have tagged as "angst? i think?" when i posted it.

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

now this, this is where we get tangled up in weighing a hundred fluffy fics against each other to decide happiness rankings! maybe something like Flowers for no reason but you missed me (starsky/hutch) or And I love every inch of you (And then some, and then some) (h50 steve/danny) because both of those are just pure giddy happiness start to finish, which means the happiness has been building for the longest by the time the ending rolls around.

Do you get hate on fics?

thankfully, not really! most of my stuff is deeply inoffensive. there's been a sporadic comment here or there over the years of someone randomly telling me they didn't agree with something i wrote (by which i don't mean people pointing out genuine mistakes - that's very different, and very helpful), but even then i wouldn't necessarily classify that as "hate", just as a very awkward way to respond to reading something that annoys you for whatever reason. what springs to mind is one that started with "i have not seen the episode" and then proceeded to interpret an in context line from a character as my personal beliefs on whether children are capable of evil, so. that kind of thing.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

not officially! but unofficially i've been told that it's fun and really really sweet, so no surprises there.

Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

not usually, which means that the craziest (and only) one on ao3 is probably the h50/s&h crossover (Said the apple to the orange), which is truly very uncrazy.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

i wonder about that sometimes (i feel like after many many years and with the recent bot stuff on top, the answer should maybe be "probably"), but not that i know of!

there was an instance once of someone copying a story title, but they did so in a way that didn't even work. i was writing in dutch at the time, but english titles were Very Cool, so my story was called "ladies, bugs and ladybugs", and the other person took that, translated it to dutch, and used that for their story, which. those words don't match up the same way in the slightest, so it's just a random sequence of things by that point.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

yes! actually, i was probably the first person to translate any of my fic - all of the very, very early stuff posted to ao3 was just an english copy of originally dutch stories - but these days there are also a lot of russian translations (russians seem to be very active in h50 fandom!), some mandarin, some french. one italian, i think. it's very cool!

also, shout out to people who do podfics, too. <3

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

a few attempts were made over the years, but most of that never went very far for one reason or another. none of it is on ao3.

What's your all-time favorite ship?

as of right now, probably starsky/hutch!

What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

oh, i'm afraid i could fill, well, lists. one that immediately comes to mind that's technically a little past this category because i know i'll never finish it is a very long h50 project in which i took up about a hundred different little threads from the series and tried to weave them together into a giant fix-it-ish getting together coming out case fic sort of thing, and i still think the plotting work for that one was sound, but i'm just never going to actually get 100k down for a fic like that at this point in my life. (note that this is not a fic that's already up on ao3 in part - i'll finish those, one way or another.)

and oh my, for maybe a better answer: the starsky-watches-cowboy-movies starsky/hutch fic. i want to write that one, i do! and i am, and i do have real hope that i may one day finish it, but it's a fairly ambitious project in multiple ways, so there are some serious obstacles i will need to find some way around.

What are your writing strengths?

i love the patter of writing dialogue! people tell me characters sound believable and like themselves, so that's nice. also, balancing ridiculously fluffy things in such a way that it doesn't tip over into saccharine, and i also think i manage good jokes sometimes. i've been working on descriptions and atmosphere, and that's been fun.

What are your writing weaknesses?

i've completely unlearned how to write long stories! and ironically, i do write a lot of overlong sentences. also, i'll turn to google for absolutely anything, but deep down i'm a pretty impatient writer when research is needed and it doesn't happen to be a subject i'm already interested in, which oftentimes means i'd rather handwave things or scrap the idea entirely, even though i think really well-researched fic is amazing. and on that note, no matter how much american media and internet content i consume, i'm not american and have never been to america, which can be a challenge when writing for almost exclusively american fandoms. (i think i understand beds now, but i'll have to google sinks one of these days.)

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

ha! this was a thing that was very, very common for a while in my dutch fic writing community, because more or less all of the fictional properties and/or real life celebrities people were writing about were british or american (maybe with tokio hotel as the one notable exception), so there was A Lot of fic written in dutch with stilted high school english dialogue thrown in. i was never very into that, but hey, if it makes you happy, definitely go for it, and that goes double if it's just a few sentences for flavor! compared to what i used to see, ao3 culture is extremely conservative with these sorts of things.

all of which i say while also still, in the back of my head, considering the possibility of writing a really obnoxious ted lasso fic with 90% dutch dialogue, so. i too might become guilty at some point in the future.

First fandom you wrote for?

twilight! it was nessie/jacob, with i think a love triangle with a vampire thrown in. we all have to start somewhere.

Favorite fic you've ever written?

i recently reread How To Build A Triangle (or accidentally fall headlong into one, or whatever the fuck) and i still think it's really good and fun, plus it's a minor miracle that i got it finished so easily! there's a decent chance i'd name a different fic if you asked me again tomorrow, though.

Tagging

I have no idea who has already done this or been tagged for it, so I'm just going to throw a few names out there (@redgoldblue @actingcamplibrarian @stephmcx @spurious @goneahead), and then give the usual disclaimer that obviously i'm tagging you all with no pressure, and that if anyone sees this and it seems like a fun list of questions, i'm tagging you too! ✨

[sgkophie]

Man's World - Chapter 6 - A Losing Deck of Cards, Please

Pairing: Female!Leclerc reader x Carlos Sainz Jr, Reader x Carlos Sainz

Warnings: slow burn, eventual Smut, enemies to lovers

Rating: Mature

Word Count: ~4k

AN: Ok - this chapter felt a bit more "filler" but it gives us a little more insight into the characters and their interactions did make me laugh. Some classic Peaches-Carlos moments. Plus I threw in some Carlos POV since so many of you have been requesting it! let me know what you think!

Just felt better to start Chapter 7 with Peaches' dinner with the boys vs. ending chapter 6 with it :) Bear with me folks - chapter 7 and 8 have some fun stuff I promise... oh and definitely some Smut coming up! It's about time... am I right?

Almost done writing Chapter 7 - should be out Thursday or Friday at the latest.

Check out the full intro synopsis here!

Bugatti Factory – Georgia POV

After Miami Lily and I were requested back to the factory so we could hop into the Sim. The team had further upgrades on the cars which they wanted to bring to Barcelona. I was excited, the Miami upgrades were incredible and I had no doubt the Barcelona upgrades would help us increase our race pace. But the best part? After a few days in the factory I had a solid 5 days at home in Monaco, just me, Charles and Lily – who had decided to visit before our trip to Barcelona. 

No Carlos, no demands, and most importantly – no journalists.

At my last day at the factory I was called in for a ‘social media meeting.’ While Lizzie made it sound like we were be having a general meeting about both Lily and I’s engagements over the next week, based on the guest list, I knew what we would be actually discussing – I was going to get the low down on the Barcelona “fake dating” plan. 

When I walked into the brightly lit Bugatti board room, the first thing I saw was a huge projector reflecting a photo of me and Carlos at the Miami grand prix. It was a picture of us in the cool down room – Carlos was shirtless, and I apparently had the biggest smirk on my face that I had personally ever witnessed. 

Good fucking grief, I thought to myself. Please tell me this is photoshopped. 

Before I could respond, I heard a burst of laughter behind me. Lily and Chris, my athletic trainer, had just walked into the conference room and saw the photo on the screen – a photo of me staring at a shirtless Carlos with a small, sultry smirk on my face. 

I was mortified. 

“Please take a seat and we’ll get started,” Lizzie said, motioning for me to take a seat. As much as I wanted to take a seat, all I could do was stand and stare at the photo; my face no doubt showing a look of absolute shock. I felt frozen. 

“She would, but she can’t stop staring at Carlos with those puppy dog eyes,” Chris said, chuckling at me as I turned to him. I immediate flicked him off and stuck my tongue out. Was it childish? Sure – but I had just been caught staring at Carlos like a teenage girl who had just been asked to the dance by the quarterback… so, I was feeling childish. 

I sat in the closest seat next to me, still staring at the photo on the screen. It soon switched to an Instagram post, which featured said shirtless Carlos photo. 

Oh good, now I knew everyone was talking about the look. Lucky me.

Lizzie chuckled a bit. “Right, well, needless to say, things are going great in that department. We’ve been monitoring social media and the fans are loving the two of you. Speculation is high. After the race, #Garlos was trending on twitter.” She clapped her hands, clearly incredibly proud of herself. “The helping you out of the car- absolutely priceless. Defending you to the journalist? The cherry on top. Couldn't have asked for a better media interaction."

I scoffed at that. There I was dying of 105 degree heat, but all the social media team could think of was the gold mine that was discovered. Sure, he defended me, something that had taken me by surprise, but I had also stood up for myself. Not that anyone mentioned that in any of those post race debrief articles.

“So since the fans have bought into this so nicely, and since this upcoming race is Carlos’s home race, Coco and I have decided to move up the timeline a tad.” 

With that statement, I lifted my eye brows. “How much is a tad?” I asked dryly. 

“Next week you and Carlos should be more public in the paddock…” She drifted off, clearly a little worried about what she as going to say next. I motioned for her to continue, unconsciously sitting on the edge of my seat. 

“We’re going to have you hold hands throughout the paddock, attend a couple events together,” she said very quickly, probably hoping I wouldn’t hear it all. I pictured her at the paddock directing me around, saying “well I told you back at the office”, in hopes that she could insinuate that I wasn’t listening during the social media meeting. 

It didn’t work. I was on high alert. 

I sighed, because I knew it was only a matter of time before we were going to have to escalate the relationship. In fan’s minds, a couple that had been dating for about a month held hands. 

I nodded. “Fine, I guess that makes sense.” I could see Lizzie’s face lighten up; clearly she was expecting me to fight this, but the relief that washed over her face gave me a little bit of happiness. At least I can make her happy today, I thought to myself. She clapped her hands and headed over to give me a big hug. 

“Excellent! Here’s the rest of your itinerary. Oh and just one more thing – we booked two rooms next to each other. It’s his home race and fans will expect you guys to be all lovely dovey – didn’t make sense to have you in separate hotels.”

“Separate rooms, right?” I said strongly – staring directly into Lizzie’s eyes. Like hell was I going to share a room with Carlos Sainz. Didn’t matter if he was the most handsome driver on the grid… or if he smelled the best… or if he had been acutely aware enough to pull me out of the race car before I passed out from heat exhaustion…

My thoughts were cut off by Lizzie who shrilled, “Of course! I know how much your sleep is important to you before a race… which is the story you and Carlos will say if anyone questions why you have separate rooms, got it?” 

I nodded – it seemed easy enough. 

The rest of the meeting concluded with Lizzie going through a few more Instagram posts that people had taken of us. One was from the Ferrari social media team who had done a cute post on my visit to the Ferrari garage for the orchestrated ‘accidental’ tour Carlos had given me. To be fair to them, it did look cute – Carlos looked like a kid in a candy store, showing me all of the coolest new items that had just arrived. 

I enquired to see if any sponsors had seen the posts and if there were any changes to the deals. Lizzie denied it, which made sense. We were going to have to put in a lot more effort if we were going to turn this image around. 

Carlos POV – Ferrari Factory

Miami was a great race. I had managed to get onto the podium, and I was starting to feel real confidence in the car. The sooner I got my driving life together and my personal life more private, I was going to be rid of Little Ms. Sassy Leclerc. Although after my help with getting her out of the car, the media and fans had gone wild. I was being hailed Georgia’s Hero – which felt ridiculous, all I did was help a driver out of her car. I was a decent human being, and I didn’t appreciate everyone making hoopla about me doing the basics – did no one expect me to help her? 

The moment she had pulled up I knew something was wrong. Georgia had a signature jump out of the car she did when she made the podium of a race. It was, to be fair, pretty cute and when she didn’t jump out this time, I knew something was wrong. I figured she’d be pissed that she lost to her brother – but no way would she neglect to get out of the car to celebrate with Charles. 

When I pulled her out of the car, the look of panic on her face was real. I felt like, for the first time, I had seen a glimpse of the real Georgia; she wasn’t the usual composed self. She seemed human, and it was a breath of fresh air for me. I had this weird feeling in my stomach when she looked straight into my eyes – something I was going to definitely ignore.

On the last day of the visit to the factory, Charles and I had been summoned to a communications meeting – which I knew instantly was going to be about Georgia. As I walked into the room, Bella, my communications manager patted me on the back. “Good stuff, Carlos – pulling Georgia out of the car like that, absolute gold. And then defending her at the press conference? Just great,” she said to me. 

I brushed her off. “I’m not going to leave any driver in the car. What her team did to her was stupid and dangerous – plus that journalist was an asshole, I’ve been wanting to put him in his place for a while,” was all I could mutter back as a reply. 

“Well, regardless, the audience seem to be loving this relationship. Charles, that little live story you did at the bar was gold. Speculation is running high that Charles has set you two up, which is going to lead us into a perfect weekend where we can make the relationship public at your home race this weekend,” Coco chimed in. 

Of course they were going to take advantage of my home race. Here when I finally had a chance to win my home race, my communications team were more worried about how Georgia and I were going to interact. The team explained the plan for us to walk through the paddock, hand in hand. There would be the usual garage visit, probably a track walk, etc. etc. etc… 

“And who knows, maybe if you get on the podium, she’ll give you a little congratulations kiss,” Coco said with a chuckle. At that comment Charles cleared his throat, clearly unamused by my cousins’ antics. 

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Charles said dryly. 

“Don’t worry mate, no one wants to kiss your sister less than I do,” I said to him, giving him a big pat on the shoulder. I thought he might have taken the joke – but instead he turned to me and looked offended. He didn’t want me to kiss his sister… but he clearly wanted me to want to kiss his sister. Noted.  

“You’ll have rooms next to each other this race, so we can easily get footage of you two coming and going from the paddock. We’ll rotate this race – Georgia will drive some and you’ll drive some.” 

Clearly my horrified face said it all – because before I could say anything Coco butted in. 

“Carlos, you have to share. You being the only one driving makes it look like a one-sided relationship and the fans are going to start commenting that you don’t let her drive anywhere. We’re getting ahead of that.”

I knew he was right, but still, getting in a Bugatti felt like an offense to all human nature. 

“Fine – as long as I don’t have to share a room with her, I’ll do it.” 

Charles eyes widened, as if he had just thought of the possibility that one day they would probably shove me and his beloved sister into the same room. I chuckled at that. Oh Charles, Ferrari’s little naïve golden boy. 

Barcelona – Wednesday – Georgia’s POV 

We arrived in Barcelona fairly early and our shuttle from the private plane took us straight to the hotel we were staying at. The hotel was a lovely old building in the center of the historic downtown. As I opened the door to my room, I saw what was probably the largest, most lovely suite I had ever laid my eyes on. Within the room were two bedrooms and a huge living room. 

Nice, I thought to myself. 

I texted Charles that I had arrived and asked if he wanted to meet up for dinner tonight. Fortunately I had been spared dinner with Carlos this evening since he had some big dinners with potential sponsors and Spanish VIPs. Apparently no one thought we were that ready to be put together at a sponsorship dinner. Fine by me.

Georgia: Dinner tonight?  

Twin Bro: Yea, I’ll text Pierre and Danny. 

Georgia: Sounds good.  

I unpacked my clothing for the race weekend. Again Bugatti had set us up with some pretty fun items for the week – some sun dresses, blue jeans that matched the car, and various tops for the weekend. Several designers had reached out to the team and asked if they could design better polos than the classic men’s one the rest of the paddock wore, to which Isabelle said, “of course.” 

If I was going to walk around the paddock holding hands with the devil – at least I was going to do it in style.

I decided to take a shower before I got dressed for the day. We had an afternoon meeting with some VIPs at the hospitality lounge, and going drenched in sweat and smelling like airplane just didn’t seem appropriate if I was trying to convince my VIPs to become sponsors. As I was finishing up my shower I all of a sudden heard a noise coming from the main room. Panic began to fill me. Had someone broken in? A crazy fan? There were some crazy fans in F1 – and not everyone was thrilled that the sport was ‘letting women in’.  

Must be Lizzie here to fill me in on some extras for the weekend, I thought to myself. Still, usually she knocks first, I grumbled to myself. 

But as I walked out of the shower, wrapped in only towel, ready to chastise Lizzie for not knocking before she came into my room – I saw something much worse – Carlos Sainz. His eyes were slowly raking over me and he smirked. “Well hello to you too. I guess after Miami, its only fair I also see your shirtless, although you definitely need to buy me dinner first,” he said with a wink. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?!” I screamed, running back into the bathroom. I poked my head out of the door and looked at him, still demanding answer. 

“Well according to the front desk, this is my room. So, I think the question is why are you here, showering in my shower?” 

“This is my room you idiot.” 

“Well, looks like we’re sharing a room then – cause clearly my key works,” he griped back, motioning towards the door with his key – like a buffoon.

“Absolutely not. No way. Not happening. Now turn around so I can run back to my room. And don’t get comfortable, I am sure Lizzie will get this sorted.” 

He chuckled, but turned around. The moment he did I dashed to my room, cell phone in hand. I frantically dialed Lizzie’s number, as if she was a radio host and I was a hopeful fan that was going to be caller #9. 

“Lizzie, thank god you picked up, there’s been a mistake. Carlos is in my room, claiming we’re sharing a room! I thought you said these rooms were next to each other.” 

“Wha-what do you mean he’s in your room?” She seemed as equally confused as I was. “Let me call and get this sorted out.” 

I hung up and threw my Bugatti team clothes on. On the other side of the wall I could hear Carlos’ muffled voice – clearly speaking to Coco on his end. After I got dressed I walked out of my room and heard the tail end of their conversation. 

“… this is not acceptable, you need to fix this,” I heard Carlos hiss. “It’s bad enough that I have to spend my down time in the paddock with her, I need my space in my hotel room!” 

Carlos turned to see me and gave me a weak smile. “Good to see you found some clothes.” 

Before I could retort back to him, Lizzie was calling me. “Please tell me you have some good news,” I split out, staring directly at Carlos. 

“Unfortunately Georgia, when the Ferrari coordinator called to get the rooms next to each other – the hotel heard two rooms side by side, they booked you a suite with two… and with the grand prix this weekend, the hotel is completely booked.” She trailed off at the end, but the truth was I had stopped listening after unfortunately. 

Carlos could tell from my face that the news was bad news, because as I turned to him, he slammed his bag on the sofa and sat down with what only could be described as the world’s largest sigh. Before I could say anything, he was opening his suitcase and unpacking his toiletries.

I was seething. I had one request, and it was broken. Carlos looked at his phone, and his face said it all – he had been told the same thing from Coco. 

“Just stay out of my way,” I bit out, rushing back into my room and slamming the door. As soon as I was ready to go I rushed out of the room, not giving Carlos another thought.

********

The rest of the afternoon went well. The VIP experience was lovely and Isabelle said we made some good progress with a couple potential sponsors – Luis Vuitton being one of them. The sponsors had asked me various questions about the car, but one sponsor in particular had asked me about Carlos – well congratulated me more like. I did my best not to roll my eyes and pretend barf as Lily stood behind the sponsor, staring at me while giggling like a small child. She was getting way too much enjoyment out of this I determined.

I made sure to complain to Isabelle, Susie and Lizzie about my unfortunate luck with the hotel, but Isabelle made it clear I would not be switched to a different hotel than the rest of the team. ‘At least this means you and Carlos will be on time to the paddock’, she said with what I thought was too much of an attitude considering I was the one who had to endure Carlos Sainz in MY hotel room. 

After the strategy meeting I returned back to the hotel to get ready for dinner. Truth be told, I was incredibly excited to have dinner with Charles, Pierre and Danny. It had been so long since the four of us had hung out – and I had a lot to fill them in on. Plus, I had sent Lando a box of Krispy Kreme donuts, which I had conveniently loaded full of vegetables and Greek yoghurt inside, so I was eager to hear about his utter disappointment when opening the box. Lando had gotten a sponsorship from them because of his absolute love of donuts. When we were kids, he’d easily knock back half a dozen in a sitting… and then go back for more. 

When I arrived at the front door of my – our – hotel room, I took a big breath. You can do this Georgia, you can survive this weekend, I said to myself. I walked into the living room of our suite and heard the shower running. Perfect, I can make a quick getaway, I thought to myself. I immediately ran to the safety of my suite room and quickly changed into a lovely purple dress. Matched with my light tan heels and my cartier bracelet, I, for the first time in a while, felt relaxed and beautiful. I was going to have dinner with my brother and best friends – for once, all felt right in the world. 

Before I could truly reminisce in my moment of relaxation and clarity, I walked out of my room and was, once again, hit with the reality of my situation – a shirtless reality of my situation. There, standing in front of me, was none other than Carlos Sainz, fresh out of the shower, steam still pouring out of the bathroom. His towel was wrapped around his waist, hung real low around his hips – it looked as though it could fall to the floor any moment. 

God I wish it would, I immediately thought before I could stop myself. I pushed that thought way down into the pit of my stomach. What is wrong with your Georgia? This is Carlos Sainz – the playboy both your teams have saddled you with because he can’t keep it in his pants. 

Unfortunately for me, before I could finish the internal conversation with myself, Carlos had turned to face me. I had been caught staring… again.

“Enjoying the view?” he asked with a wink, staring directly at me.

I immediately snapped out of my internal conversation and turned away, giving him my shoulder and huffing. “Any chance you can put some clothes on? This is a shared area, in case you forgot,” I responded snarkily. 

“And deny you the opportunity to get a second peak of your favorite Chili? What kind of man do you think I am?” He teased.  

I grimaced. So he had seen that Instagram post that caught me staring at him shirtless in Miami. Great. I mean it was all over the internet, so it was incredibly hopeful of me to think that he hadn’t seen it.

“A man that has probably never been told to put his shirt back on by a woman, but there’s a first time for everything, Carlos, so put it on,” I hissed back. 

He chuckled. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see his form in the mirror in front of me – he was directly behind me and starting to inch closer. He kept moving towards me and before I could react, I felt his breath on my neck which caused a slight chill to go up my spine. 

“If you play your cards right, mi amor, you might be able to see more of me,” he softly whispered into my ear. It was as if my body had forgotten who he was, because I could feel my body start to warm up. Having him this close to me like this, it felt like my nerves were all set on fire. I tried to respond to him, come up with something witty, but at that moment, all I could think about was how close his lips were to my neck – how good his breath felt on my neck. 

So, instead, before I embarrassed myself any further, I turned around and headed straight to the door. Before I could stop myself I turned and around and yelled back into the room, “Well consider my cards a losing deck because what I really want is to see less of you – so if you could turn that into making yourself disappear – I’d be delighted!” And with that, I slammed the door and headed to the elevator.

Not my finest comeback – but it would have to do in a pinch… a real pinch. 

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[juniperwoodwell]

Hello. I saw your Matt Murdock request and I would like a request thar Matt was having a nightmare and reader goes to comfort him. Thank you

Night Terrors

••••••••••••••••

Word count:1447

Paring(s):Matt Murdock x Reader

Warning(S): Angst,minor arguing, bad writing, happy ending.

A/n: Thank you so much for this request I really enjoyed the idea but I haven't been in the best writing mood so this might be horrible. But thank you anyway!

(photo not mine)

I knew he'd had a rough week with this recent case and the spike in crime going on, so I should have known his frustration would boil over eventually. "Leave." He demanded sternly, "Matt- That's not fair..." I tried to reason, but he was a man stuck in his ways. "I don't want you here if you're going to keep distracting and interrupting me." He kept his back to me as he sat on the couch hunched over the coffee table with his papers and files spilled across it. "Oh. I'm sorry for being such a bother to you. You can order your own damn food." I say, feeling my own frustration starting to rise. "Actually, You know what. Find yourself someone else to look after you all the time. Someone who doesn't piss you off every time they breathe." I didn't mean to get pissed off, but this is the fifth time this week that he's been an ass to me, but I didn't need to be treated like this, not by him. So I grabbed my keys off the dining table. "Where are you going?" He finally speaks, "Oh look, Now he wants to care."

I scoff and head towards the door, hearing him get up from the couch and come after me. "Y/n-" He says just barely above a whisper; I turn to glare at him over my shoulder even though I knew he couldn't see it, but he could sense it at least "You're right, that wasn't fair of me, I know but please, don't leave. stay," I felt him reach for me, and I pulled away, "Sweetheart, please, I'm sorry." He goes for me again, and I let him grab my arm. "Matthew. I need some air." I say as I open the door. "Baby-" "No. I'm leaving, and you can't convince me to stay this time." I close the door behind me, and as it locks, I hear a thump; I assume it was matt resting his head against it. "Good...he's thinking about his actions," I whisper.

After I left Matt's apartment, I decided to get a late-night coffee to think about how I should discuss the argument with Matt; both of us getting some time away should help cool the air; my phone has been ringing every ten minutes, and it's always Matt. "Honey...You'll be fine," I whisper into the coffee mug as I look out the cafe window. "I should go back soon.." and thats just what I did; as soon as I finished the coffee, though, he could wait a little longer.

As I stepped into the apartment, I could hear soft snores from the couch; once I locked the door, I walked through the hallway to see matt passed out, his head against the back of the couch, his knee spread apart, and his arms at his side. He looked peaceful, "Oh. He cleaned up.." I whisper to myself as I walk into the kitchen; opening the fridge, I see a box of Chinese sitting on the top shelf with a post-it note. 'I got you your favorite, sweetheart. I'm sorry for being an ass.' He actually wrote something on paper which surprised me, but it kinda looked like a ransom note since he doesn't write on paper often. When he does that, I know he means his apology. He once wrote " I love you " on a receipt when he bought groceries for me. "Sweet man, you are Murdock," I say quietly. The moment is interrupted by uncomfortable groans; I look over to matt, who seems to be having a nightmare; these were more common than you'd think.

I shut the fridge and walked to the couch, sitting beside him. "Matthew, honey. Wake up" I gently placed my hand on his thigh, but he was only getting deeper into the nightmare. Carefully I shook his shoulder, which seemed to do the trick; he jolted up and hunched over his head in his hands, "Matty.." my voice surprised him. A whimper was all that left his lips as he turned and leaned his head against my shoulder, I rubbed his back, and he held me close to him. My shoulder was wet from his silent tears "Honey Bunny; You're okay. I'm here," I say softly, but he remains silent the whole time. I don't entirely remember what happened, but we fell asleep on the couch.

The sun beaming through the large windows woke me, I wanted to get up and make some coffee, but Matt's heavy weight on top of me made it nearly impossible to move. "Matty...We should get up." I whisper sweetly to him, but he refuses to let me up by nuzzling his head into my neck and wrapping his arms tighter around me. "Can we at least move to the bed?" I ask as I run my fingers through his hair. He nods against me before slowly releasing me and getting up off the couch. He kept his eyes close as he picked me up off the couch. "Matt...I can get myself to the room," I say as I hold onto him "no..I know that once you get up, you're up for the rest of the day," he tells me when he lays me down on the bed, he crawls on top of me again, I grab the large blanket and throw it overtop of us. "Fine, but we're not sleeping all day." I get no response from him, only soft peaceful snores.

The annoying buzz of my phone vibrating on the kitchen counter wakes me up, my head is resting against Matt's chest, and his arm is wrapped around me. I groan quietly as I sit up, careful not to wake him as I get out of bed. I grab my phone and see it's my boss, who's been calling, "Hello, sir." I say as I answer it; I walk to the coffeepot and start to make some coffee, grabbing our favorite mugs from the cabinet. "Yes, of course. Yes, Sir, I know the deadline is Thursday, but that's four days away, and I have plenty of time to comple-...Yes Sir, I understand."

I sigh exhaustedly as I hang up the call. "Y/n?" I hear matt call out from the bedroom, "Out here, baby" I hear some shuffling and heavy footsteps. I turn to see Matt leaning against the bedroom doorframe with a sweet smirk on his lips. "What's that look for?" I ask, almost mimicking his expression. "You're wearing my shirt... And I'm not dreaming. You actually came back." He says as he walks over to me, loosely wrapping his arm around my waist and kissing the top of my head. "We need to talk," I say to him as I fill up our mugs with coffee; I hand him his mug, and he thanks me; I hop up onto the counter, trapping him between my knees. We both sip our coffee in comfortable silence until he speaks up, "I'm sorry for how I've been acting. I should never talk to you like that, and I felt horrible after you left. I shouldn't take my frustration out on you. I was so worried" As he spoke, his eyes were filled with regret, but he wouldn't let me see it as he turned his head towards the window. "I forgive you, Matt. I know we've both been struggling this week. We should relax today; make it about you and me. Take some time to heal our stressed minds." I offer to him, but He says nothing; still blankly looking out the window, I knew he was overthinking everything. I placed my hand on his cheek to coax him to turn back towards me; he shut his eyes and nuzzled his face into my hand. "I'm sorry," he says quietly,  repeating it a few times; I quiet him by taking his mug and placing it on the counter before pulling him into a hug. 

Matt pulls away and kisses my head." I love you." He kisses my nose and says again, "I love you." a final sweet kiss to my lips, whispering the words once more as though the world was falling around us. "I love you too."

A/n:(2022) I don't really like how I wrote this one, but I wanted to fulfill the request. I hope you like it. I need to go back and study Matt's personality more. If you have any Matt Murdock requests let me know! Request's are open.

A/n:(2023) I actually like this now lol, I might go back and correct some spelling errors though.

[theinvisiblemuseum]

how about......people demanding wlw rep then never actually engaging with it because the only thing they care about is woke points☕

this really was the wrong day for me to rb this game because i'm seriously genuinely going to be a major cunt about it and i dgaf. that's your warning.

so. here's what i think. in very general terms.

if you don't want to read below the cut (valid) here's all i'll say: stop, actually. i don't want need or care about the megaviral wlw fanfictions of your dreams, because that's not how i choose to engage with fandoms. i already make and engage with the kind of content i want to see which (surprise!) includes a lot of wlw content, but i don't see the need to force moral superiority down people's throats over it. i don't give two shits if anyone other than me is making wlw content. this is fanfiction. fanart. etc. people are allowed to write or engage with whatever they want, HOWEVER if you're throwing a fit over not having enough wlw content and can't name a woman off the top of ur head, that seems like a you problem, idk. basically i choose to actively NOT engage with the type of people screaming crying and pissing themselves over content that already exists that they can't be bothered to look for because appearances and #feminism are all that matters.

if you're here, i'm going to get more cunty, not sorry, you were warned.

the demand for wlw rep is absolutely just dog whistling to seem holier than thou, and like, whatever, most of this shit originates on twitter and tiktok and i've never listened to a word a twitter or tiktok user has said and i won't start now so on the whole i can just put my metaphorical headphones on and tune it out and keep doing my thing, yk? but when it permeates my little den of horror and my brain starts scratching itself, well, i find that sometimes i need to be an asshole and sometimes is right now.

it's not actually a fandom sexism/misogyny issue it's an issue of wanting validation to enjoy certain things, because those things are only cool if the hivemind says so, right? i'm no political expert but i know enough to know that cultlike thought patterns don't lead anywhere good. i've seen zombie movies. i live in america. LOL.

i always joke about how i'd rather die than have my favorite ships become popular (i.e. pandalily, bartydora, lilycissa, etc) but the reason i say that is because a. it breeds discourse that i don't care about, and b. i don't want a bunch of people engaging with content they're not actually interested in just to seem woke or stay on top of trends. it just makes things worse for the people who actually enjoy it.

and while i have your attention, and while i'm being a bitch, wanna know one of the big reasons i think people are crying and whining about the 'lack of wlw rep'? they want other people to care so they don't have to. of course, they don't realize other people already dooooo care, because they're too terrified to sort by anything other than hits on ao3, but that's neither here nor there. no, what they want is for some big strong heavenly god to bite the bullet and characterize these women that, let's be frank, are names on a page and nothing more, so they don't have to. so they can keep on keeping on with the characters they DO care about and toss something around every once and a while about (insert megaviral wlw fic that doesn't exist) to avoid claims of sexism & lesbophobia. AND AS A DISCLAIMER! i don't think people should feel the need to care about a bunch of random characters if they don't want to. once again, this is fanfiction. do whatever the fuck you want. i promise it makes things so much more fun and chill. just because i wanna characterize the shit out of pandora fucking lovegood, i'd never demand anyone else does, and that's the crux of it, isn't it?

this is why it also bugs me when i see posts like 'omg i don't even care who the ship is, i just love sapphics!' or smth along those lines because like, yeah, i love women and i love when women fuck each other and love each other, but i'm not just gonna care about a ship because it's two women. if i did, i'd be more than happy with the pg spoonfed #girlcore sapphic representation in mass media, because half the time it's just two white girls named rachel and brookleighanna whose only defining character traits are that they're gay. nothing more. and sorry, but i'd rather have no wlw content than that. i can't enjoy a ship if i haven't rotated them to hell and back like a rotisserie chicken in my silly little head, often before i've even consumed any content about them. that's the fun of it! i sent like 12 voice messages about a ship i don't even care about that much one time just because i took a shower and had a lot of thoughts. does that mean i'm going to attempt to make them a cornerstone of the Fandom As A Whole and be treated like a celebrity over it? fuck no. i'm just here because i like to have fun and talk to people about characters we all enjoy and create so much lore in my head that only 2 people will ever know about simply because i'm passionate about it and that passion is really enjoyable to me. fandom is a community to me, not a hierarchy, like tiktok or twitter would have you believe, and i think that's what this whole conversation about wlw rep is missing right from the jump. (ta da! i circled back to the point at hand in the end. my tangent had a point!)

yeah so that's my two cents. lol.

[keef-a-corn]

Dat’s right, People, it’s time for ‘Keef watches TFP and you just get the notes!’

This is for season 1, episode 23: One Shall Fall

Please reblog or comment on this with your thoughts! I really want to know what your opinion of the episode was!

I write down the timestamps, but I watch Transformers Prime on Stan (an Australian streaming service) so they may be slightly off.

ALSO! I try my best to note points for every character, but tend to get a little caught up by Bee (although I think I do a pretty good job with the notes regardless) so do be warned.

Some of the notes for One Shall Fall was formed from an incredible fanfic I’ve read (I’ll link it at the bottom! I HIGHLY RECOMMEND READING IT IF YOU LOVE BEE.) so if you think I‘ve gone insane, and a little off track, you're probably right.

~~~~Transition~~~~

00:03 - does ‘One Shall Fall’ really started with ‘and it was written in the covenant of Primus’? It’s very jarring.

00:11 - perpetual: never ending or changing.

Culminate: reach a climax or point of highest development. [or: reach or be at the meridian.]

00:27 - why is this shot so pretty?

00:38 - The angle of the shot makes Optimus look like a child trying to hid behind a blanket.

00:42 - they were in sync.

00:54 - so why not mention it a little earlier?

01:13 - *throws to Optimus fans* FEAST!

01:34 - My dude has perfect timing.

01:43 - Knockout has a growth mindset.

01:57 - he must constantly be seeing the future then, huh?

~intro~

03:03 - It’s funny to see that every other post give so much more context and whoever uploaded this was just like ‘location, date and time, literally anything else? Nah.. who needs that!’ + Bee can’t even hide when in a alt form.

03:12 - amazing how he can see that far and from that angle.

03:25 - wow! It changed the text and everything!

03:26 - HE’S SO CUTE IMMA DIE

03:31 - he looks so insecure ;0;

03:37 - Best interaction to ever exist.

03:40 - as was established by the statement ‘Prime’s don’t party’.

03:44 - foreshadowing.

03:49 - the way he specifically looks at Arcee like she’s made that claim before.

03:53 - Foreshadowing. + Optimus shaking his hips slightly while Ratchet talks about him is highly amusing.

04:09 - a little bicth. Got it.

04:11 - Yes. That’s true. No one said he was. Ratchet said Optimus used to be like Jack.

04:16 - My captions said ‘Meg’ instead of MECH

04:25 - Soundwave, the sneaky lil’ con.

04:38 - Not the captions saying ‘Cap’ instead of ‘Cat’

04:30 - No need for the description. They all know what Soundwave looks like.

04:36 - Raf looks like their child.

04:40 - what is the purpose of the ‘Top Secret’ part?

04:51 - Knockout bowing and Soundwave, in the same shot? It must be Christmas.

04:55 - ‘What Soundwave said—‘ that’s just cruel wording.

05:11 - she is so short

05:15 - this short was brought to you by ✨fade transition✨

05:16 - Collecting all the scenery shots.

05:35 - Damn, Prime getting tense.

06:05 - the shot makes them look like they’re throwing lightsabers.

07:09 - ain’t Megatron lucky that was Bee.

07:12 - how does he have such bad aim?

07:24 - let us be clear.. that is horrifying.

07:42 - that looked cool

07:53 - Someone was a theatre kid.

08:00 - folly: lack of good sense

08:02 - Fruition: the realization or fulfilment of a plan or project. + A stressed Optimus as a walking Thesaurus.

08:13 - I think Megatron needs to reevaluate who is true enemy is. Optimus or Bumblebee? Because I think, at this moment, he’s got more reason to want Bee dead than Optimus.

08:21 - O0O

08:23 - She’s calling out to get a response from him, but it also looks like she’s just stating who it is.

08:32 - Megatron admits he was trying to kill Bee but failed. How the frag do you fail like that then try to seem so smug? Although ‘and’ implies that he did inflict harm onto Bumblebee. Honestly, wouldn’t even be surprised if this episode was secretly going to have plot B involve Bumblebee actually having gotten hurt, but it was scrapped.

08:35 - that rattling sound was a very good choice.

08:37 - WHY NOT THOUGH?? What is the harm in letting Bee try to kill Megatron? + that’s the way a dog acts when you’re trying to stop them from barking.

08:44 - Bee was still fighting against Bulkhead, how could he not have gotten free? Granted, there isn’t much experience to go off with how strong Bee is when he’s angry, but it would be a safe assumption that Bulkhead’s weak grip on Bee’s shoulder’s would’ve been ineffective in restraining him.

08:47 - Doesn’t Optimus say if someone’s been hurt?

08:57 - no, why did they give Bumblebee the same personality as my dogs? He forgot to be angry for a second, before turning around

08:59 - Arcee looks like a mother.

09:00 - As Arcee pushes Bee to turn around, you can see that he’s eyes go back to normal and he’s looking all innocent.

09:01 - but then he quickly arches his eyes rows. His angry, but he’s not gonna murder anyone.

09:02 - then she puts her hand on his back and right before they fade out, he’s leaning forward, most likely to check Raf. (It happens too quickly for any screenshots)

09:39 - why would Bee have come up from beside Arcee?

09:41 - ‘into’ implies that it’s in a seperate room.

09:46 - How did they do that so quickly?

10:08 - Oh cheez… Ratchet, you needed that-

10:09 - as soon as Ratchet started freaking out is when Bee expressed being upset.

10:10 - to note is that Bee curled up his hand, which is what Optimus does whenever he’s not totally calm.

10:17 - Was about to point out that Ratchet just called Raf weak, until I realised that it’s what Megatron was doing. Megatron deemed Bumblebee the weakest of the autobots, which is why he attacked him, but wasn’t bothered by Bee not having suffered because he still harmed someone weaker therefore still fulfilling the prophecy.

10:46 - heavily animated Megatron.

10:55 - his eyes do be purple… and lined up correctly.

11:20 - they’ve become aware.

11:27 - I’m embarrassed to say I thought that was a transformer at first.

11:35 - I mean.. maybe??

11:39 - How would June intend to stabilise him if she doesn’t know the severity of it.

11:56 - this would be a more effective speak if we haven’t seen her act super recklessly in honour of Tailgate and Cliff.

12:01 - AIN’T THAT RICH! + Seriously though, whatever he had said was probably a threat and he punched a wall, expressing emotions when they become overwhelming is a way to manage emotions and keep them in check. It was better he yell and do repairable damage than suppress it and let it build up over time until it becomes too overwhelming and he hurts someone.

12:37 - Ya know, Ratchet could’ve used that free time to check on Bee. May have given him a hint to work out what they could do to help Raf, or, at least, have kept both of them occupied for a bit.

12:39 - damn.. not the Cybertronian Pride.

12:46 - because he didn’t actually need to. As much as they’re taking care of the children, outside of surface level health (like getting cuts/scratches), the health of the children is not the bots’ responsibilities.

12:48 - Optimus said two lines and totally obliterated Arcee’s trash calming down speech.

12:51 - Ratchet acting all calm while Bee’s at the back having a breakdown so intense that he needs to squat.

13:07 - one of the best deliveries ever.

13:13 - For all purposes Optimus could be talking about literally any other thing Megatron has chosen to do. However, I chose to believe that he’s specifically talking about going after Bumblebee./hj

13:22 - Thesaurus Prime.

13:34 - woo!

13:54 - His willing to spare those willing to be spared.

14:03 - I think there’s a volcano.

14:05 - heh, it farted

14:10 - translation: I dreamt about that!

14:46 - the way he said ‘Soundwave’ more relaxed and twinge of boredom is hilarious.

15:11 - How does she not understand that he is saying the doctors cannot help him?!

15:15 - …………..

If that's true, then why wouldn't he have suspected that it wasn't energon when Bee was showing no signs of being affected by an energon blast.

15:23 - I refuse to believe that Bee wouldn’t have been affected by the dark Energon too. There is no way that Megatron would have a type of energon and use it to fight the Autobots if it does not hurt them. Megatron would have had no reason to believe that Bumblebee was hurt if he knew that dark Energon had no effect on bots. The plot hole that is Bee not being affected by the energon could’ve been avoided had Bee pulled over, let Raf out, then Megatron attack, completely missing Bee, but hitting Raf.

15:49 - GOT ‘EMMM

15:52 -it’s the intro

16:17 -that’s a metaphor for Optimus fighting Megatron.

16:18 - that looks so dumb.

16:50 - Megatron’s trying to get into Optimus’s head.

16:56 - wise words, Prime. + If I had a dollar for every time a bot didn’t fall victim to the decepticon trick, I’d have two dollars. It’s not a lot and shockingly so.

17:04 - Because Optimus isn’t exactly winning, Raf is dying.

17:07 - Mmm but like how isn’t Bee’s energon tainted? Don’t they have energon to spare?

17:08 - He looked worried until he looked at Ratchet. Bee’s emotional restraint comes from Ratchet in this episode.

17:55 - I’M GONNA CRY, THAT’S THE CUTEST SOUND.

19:33 -that’s what ya gotta leave your monologue for after the stab.

19:41 - she’s moving so much.

19:43 - Bee’s oblivious to the conversation and I love that.

19:46 - Ratchet’s heavily animated too.

20:05 - he broke the sword, tf dude??

20:07 - Didn’t even realise that he stabbed Optimus with apart of the sword.

21:20 - the prophecy shot!

———————

So that was One Shall Fall.

It’s a good episode, don’t get me wrong, but that plot hole in the B plot is annoying and makes no sense. If normal energon hurts a bot, dark energon would too. As I said, they should’ve had Raf already out of the car, then Megatron misses Bumblebee, but hits Raf. Instead he hit Bumblebee directly. No way could the energon have gone directly to Raf and not have effected Bee. (This is the fox I mentioned: Not The Only One by Princess Loveless)

As for the A plot, it certainly carries the episode and is a lot more action packed. Towards the end it became more seperate to the B plot, but contrasts a fair bit, so they feel like two different episodes, rather than just the one with a distinct A and B plot.

Honestly I dunno if I’d watch it in a select binge. In a general binge? Absolutely!

[meetmyothersouls]

Decided to take a short break on the Halloween posts and post this idea that popped into my head. It’s slightly based off of my life (and many other single mothers’ lives) and a variation of love stories that I hope to one day happen to me. If you enjoy it, I’ll create more chapters. So, let me know 🥰

The Sound of Rain

A love story written from Timothee’s POV. In this story he is a struggling actor. Just go with it. 

Chapter 1

I didn’t believe in love at first sight, or love at all really, until I met Scout. 

I remember the first time I saw her; she was getting out of an old Kia. It was silver, with at least a dozen bumper stickers around an expired license plate. I watched her climb out, coffee in hand, spilling drops of it onto her leg as she tried to balance a stack of books underneath her other arm. When she stood, I got to see her, like, really see her. She wasn’t classically beautiful, and maybe that’s why she took my breath away. I don’t know, I can’t really explain these things. She wore an old pair of Converse. The word ‘FUCK’ was written in big bold sharpied letters around the soles. It made me smile. She had on a pair of short lounge shorts, decorated in crescent moons and stars, and a Def Leopard t-shirt with sporadic holes all through it. I wasn’t sure if it was made to look vintage or if it actually was vintage, neither would surprise me. Her hair was tied up into a messy knot on the top of her head. Some pieces were straight, and some pieces were wavy, like even her hair didn’t know what the fuck it wanted to do. The color was something interesting as well, brown, but as the light hit it flecks of red popped out. She had tattoos, six from what I could see at the moment. 

She was cool as fuck. 

There was no other word for it.

She walked around the back of her car, setting what was left of her coffee on the roof. She opened the door and out climbed a little girl. She couldn’t have been more than four. My heart sank instantly. Not because she was a mother, but because she wasn’t single. 

She looked over at me as her daughter hopped on one foot toward the apartment building. Suddenly, I didn’t know how to wave or make it look like I wasn’t just staring at her for the last five to ten minutes. I lifted a hand, curling my fingers in a half wave, dropping my keys in the process. The girl furrowed her brow, as if she was trying to comprehend why some weird dude was standing in the middle of the sidewalk, staring like a complete buffoon. I didn’t blame her, I would have too, but she shrugged her shoulders moving her arms full of books and coffee and I understood what she meant. She’d wave, but her arms were full. 

“Come on, mama!” the little girl called, standing at the stairs that led to their apartment. 

“Coming,” She called out.

Fuck even her voice had me in awe. I wondered where she was from, or what it sounded like when she sang or laughed. 

As she turned, a notebook slid from her arms. I immediately moved to grab it but stopped. I don’t know why I didn’t call out to her. There were a few things I could have said. 

“Ma’am, you dropped your book.” 

“Excuse me, you dropped something.”

I could have run and grabbed it, tapped her shoulder and handed it to her, but nothing seemed like the right move, not when she just graced me with her perfection. 

She probably didn’t even realize how perfect she was. 

Anyways, I didn’t do any of that. 

But I’ll tell you what I did do.

I waited until she was gone, until I was sure that she was back in her apartment, probably kissing her boyfriend or husband. I cringed at the thought for a moment. This was the perfect amount of time for her to realize she dropped something, then come back out and get it, but she didn’t

So, I took it. 

Don’t judge me, love makes you do stupid things. 

Tags: @imnotoverlyobsessive @dayafied @soulofendlessbook @fashphotolife @chicchanelcigs @scentedkittenperfection @weasleytwinscumslut @timotheel0ver @mxciscastleintheair @marvelmaniac2000 @lovelyrocker @divine-1 @louievr @love-poems-only @starberry-cake @inlovewithphantasy @alexagirlie @misswestfall @softhecreator @livresjaunes @timmymyluv @inannamoon @harrys-thick-thighs @s-we-e-t-t-ea @timolaurence @its-schmackin-dude @justagirlwhoneedshelp @gatoenlaciudad @patronsaintofthetwinks

[vox-monstera]

WIP Wednesday

Thank you @ghostoffuturespast for tagging me! I always enjoy reading your WIPs. <3

I actually have some stuff this week! Been trying so hard to get more writing done in my free time, and it's paying off.

Currently still working on filth, of course. But I'm really liking how it's turning out, so here's a couple of snippets from my PWP, featuring NC's best boy, @pozerjacket's Kauri.

No, I haven't figured out a way to tie the story together. Yes, I love it when Kauri manhandles Vox.

Edit: forgot to tag anyone cause I’m a clown, so feel free to post your wips and tag me! Consider yourself booped.

Explicit under the cut!

Excerpt 1:

A mischievous glint; she boldly toes the line. Chrome fingers take possession of his belt buckle, yanking with enough force to intimate her intention. Kauri eyes her with half-mast amber, scarred brow raised in provocation— he’s daring her to make another move, to lay it all out between them, right here, right now.

Vox takes that dare enthusiastically.

The aggression of her plump lips is a welcome surprise, a much-needed release of the adrenaline still buzzing between them. Teeth and tongue she explores his mouth, insatiable in her hunger, months of lustful pining spilling into one kiss. Her body molds into the planes of his, soft, hot flesh against straining muscle, heat exploding between her thighs at his touch. Kauri’s mouth leaves hers to mark the sensitive flesh of her exposed clavicle, tongue snaking out to savor the sweat still clinging to her skin.

“Better tell me now if this is what you really want,” he hisses against her neck, full lips traveling up to her jaw. There’s an implied threat in the steely tone of his voice, one that sends a thrill running down Vox’s spine. Her hand still hasn’t left his buckle so she merely tugs at it in response, mind too hazy with need to formulate words.

-----

Excerpt 2:

His middle finger grazes her swollen clit, cock twitching at the delicious slickness now coating his digit. Vox arches her hips up slightly, purring as the cool air hits her dripping pussy, slit sliding along the length of Kauri’s shaft. He grips her hip with chrome fingers, tongue snaking out to wet his lips as the head of his cock teases Vox’s entrance.

“Beg for it.”

Kauri punctuates his demand with a hard slap across her ass, leaving behind the bright imprint of heavy rings on her flesh. A sharp exhale manages to escape Vox’s lips, pussy fluttering at the impact, but she holds steady.

“Make–”

His hand is around her throat before she can finish her sentence, metal sweltering against her hickey-studded skin.

“Do I sound like I’m fucking playing, V?”

The sudden lack of air sends a rush to Vox’s head, euphoria threatening to crumble her. Carotid thumps wildly against Kauri’s grip as his other hand yanks at the neck of Vox’s top, exposing her plump, stiffened tits. He rolls a pierced nipple between rough fingertips, metal-tipped teeth buried in the flesh of her shoulder, the onslaught of sensations so sublime Vox can feel tears prickling at the corner of her eyes.

“Please, Kauri…” she manages to choke out, stars dancing behind her eyelids. He loosens his grip on her throat, cock throbbing at that deep, raspy way she whispers his name.

“Gotta do better than that, gorgeous.”

Kauri smacks the swollen head of his cock against her ass a few times, leaving behind a smattering of precum across her flushed skin.

[cryiling]

can we hear more about the hip hip dancers revalink au

(in reference to this post)

OMG OFC 🫶🫶 here's a couple snippets from that au since I'm too lazy to write an actual fic for it 🙏

actually the first year they both auditioned for the hip hop competition team, they were both rejected because they had spent the whole audition side-eying each other and when they were put in the same freestyle group, they got all up in each other's faces and were too focused on trying to outdo each other to really pay attention to the actual audition. so the director rejected both of them, saying they needed to get whatever rivalry they had under control because everyone on the team needs to be able to work together and support one another

(what the director didn't know was that this had been an ongoing rivalry for years. they had first met at a walk-in kpop dance workshop, and when it became clear that the two were the top dancers in the class, revali felt the need to prove that he was the superior dancer, meanwhile link was annoyed at this guy who was obnoxiously bragging about his dancing and his kpop dance cover channel on youtube, so he decided to quietly make passive-aggressive remarks about how people who think kpop dance is real dance are dumb.)

(when they both got home that night, they absolutely googled each other. link found revali's dance account and did NOT subscribe thank you very much (but he did watch all of his covers to privately critique them). revali found link's contemporary dance portfolio and bookmarked it to his browser so he could watch all the videos)

(two months later, link decides to attend a hip hop combo class at the studio near him, and you'll never guess who he sees there: yeah it's revali. in the last 20 minutes of class when everyone gets split into groups to record the dance, surprise surprise: revali and link are in a group together. the two go full out and by the end they're both sweaty, and frustrated at being equally matched at the dance. they both come back to this class every week.)

anyways, revali is super pissed at being rejected from the team and link is frustrated that this self-absorbed idiot cost him the spot on the team. but the words of the director echo in the back of their minds, and by the time auditions roll around again, they manage to keep their cool and are both accepted onto the team. during the competition classes they are professionally cool to one another, but without that outlet to vent their frustrations at each other, their rivalry in the combo classes get much more heated

btw in case you're wondering what type of songs they dance to, check out this playlist of songs I learned dances to in my classes 🤭 esp any given sunday bc the VIBES OF THAT SONG omg peak sexy revalink

we talked a little bit already about them being assigned a duet for competition, and them practicing and falling over each other and spending late nights at the studio freestyling 🤭 I imagine at some point during one of these practice sessions (after they've warmed up to each other a little bit), as they're taking a break, link turns on that that by psy and just starts dancing to it for funsies. and revali looks at him with disbelief but then snorts in amusement, pushes himself off the floor where he had been sitting by the mirror, and joins link in the dance since ofc he knows the dance too ✋

and it turns into a bit of a game, they take turns playing increasingly obscure kpop songs to see if the other knows the dance for it, and if not they just start making up a dance for it. and omg at one point they turn on love dive by ive and they both know it and so at that part right before the chorus with the point and body roll, they even do it in formation facing each other, and it makes link blush and throws revali off beat a little AJDBAKDN

anyways after that link invites revali to go with him to an annual random dance play event that he attends every year, and it's their first date!! 🥺🥺 (not really. revali will adamantly deny that it was a date to anyone that listens. but later when they start dating he'll look back on that time and his eyes will go all soft as he remembers what it was like to share his love of kpop and dancing with someone that understands the level of passion he has for both of them)

after they start dating, they decide to compete in a kpop dance cover competition together! they do guerrilla by ateez which I'm ngl y'all it's an incredibly difficult and tiring dance, which means it's perfect for the two of them 🥰🙏 they win first place ofc, the judges are impressed by their synchrony and stage presence and chemistry with each other! they're so ecstatic, revali picks link up on stage and twirls him around a little as they're both absorbed in their own little world with eyes only for each other (someone records and posts this to tik tok, which immediately goes viral with ppl commenting "me and who??😭✋" and "if I don't have what they do then I don't want it")

this would be hard to do as a duet since there's so many dancers in it, so I would imagine they would try to get their competition team to do this with them, but I NEED revalink to cover btbt by bi because the dance for it is SOO GOOD I'm begging y'all to watch it immediately

this post quickly derailed and I cannot believe I wrote this much ohmygod 💀 anyways hope you enjoyed reading me self projecting my love of dance onto my two favorite blorbos 🫶

[scarletttries]

Eddie Munson x Reader Headcanons Part Two

Pairing: Eddie Munson (Stranger Things) x Cheerleader! Reader

Rating: NSFW Section at the end :)

Word Count: 4.6k

Author's Note: As promised here is part two of my Eddie Munson x Reader headcanons! (part one is here) Even just writing this gave me even more Eddie thoughts, so there might be a part three, or a few smaller fics off this! Some feminine terminology used in the first section, and NSFW section is AFAB based and mentions reader wearing a skirt as well. Enjoy and let me know any other Eddie thoughts you have for this sweet freak of a heartthrob 💕

Post-Vecna:

- The day after yours and Eddie's kiss, you had to get to school early for an emergency cheer meeting to check everyone on the team was okay after what happened to Chrissy. As Eddie drove in that morning, he couldn't help but take the long way, past your house, making a mental note of how much longer it took him so he could plan to pick you up every other morning that week.

- Eddie had never been a fan of school but no morning had ever gone as slowly as that one did, desperately waiting until he could see you at lunch, almost starting to doubt that the night before had been anything but the sweetest dream he'd ever had. Thankfully the second he saw you walking across the cafeteria that morning, wearing a smile he knew was for him, he knew everything really had changed. He braced himself for you to walk past, not wanting to let your cheer friends know about him, the intimidating sea of green uniforms surrounding you. But instead you settled onto the bench right next to him, planting a soft kiss on his cheek and introducing yourself to the Hellfire Club members you hadn't met before. You were met with stunned silence from pretty everyone but Dustin, who had figured out Eddie liked you long before he asked you to deliver a book to him, and immediately launched into whether you were going to start playing D&D with them now. Regaining his composure Eddie's arm found your shoulder, kissing the top of your head and glancing over to the rest of the cheer team ready to see a field of dirty looks, and being very pleasantly surprised by the supportive smiles he got instead. You had already told the team this morning about how you and Eddie had gotten closer while he was on the run, and while they didn't necessarily get it, above all they were your friends, so now Eddie was their friend too. Not to mention the last few days had given everyone a new perspective on just who in the school was really trouble. When you left the table to regroup with the cheer girls, Eddie was immediately interrogated by the party on when he had finally talked to you, trying to keep up his cool as he shrugged the questions off. That is until Dustin asked when he was taking you on a date, and Eddie realised in all his happy confusion he hadn't actually asked you anything. Not on a date, not to be his partner, not even if he could give you a ride home. All things he needed to put right before the day's end.

- If Eddie thought morning classes had passed at a snail's pace, then his afternoon passed at the pace of a snail that was long dead. Dustin's question replaying in his mind over and over, wondering if he had messed up being a boyfriend before he'd even really started. Did you know he actually liked you, did you even want to date him? Why hadn't he said anything to you at lunch? When the bell finally rang Eddie was first out of the door, all but sprinting through the halls to wait outside your own final class. He tried to disguise just how out of breath he was as he lent casually next to the door, waiting for you to emerge. The smile you gave him as you saw him waiting helped quiet that frantic inner-critic, giving him the much needed boost to hold your hand and ask if you were free for a date tonight.

- Dates with Eddie can include; renting a movie and watching (some of) it in your bedroom, going to the arcade and dazzling with him your Dance Dance Revolution moves while he tries to win you an obnoxiously large stuffed animal, going for long drives in his van until you find the perfect picnic spot in the woods, laying on a blanket shoulder-to-shoulder and letting your thoughts pour out freely.

But for your first date, to minimise the risk of him saying something stupid and making you realise you were making a terrible mistake, Eddie took you to a movie. As you sat in the dark, fingers intertwined with his, head leaning gently on his shoulder while you watched the screen, Eddie watched you. He was used to staring at you from across a room, but seeing you this close, in the soft light of the picture, it was hard to believe just how beautiful you are. It took everything in his will-power to occasionally turn his attention to the movie, desperately wanting to trace your perfect features with his fingertip while you relaxed against him. When the film finally ended Eddie cursed himself for not insisting you see the longest one showing, his shoulder feeling cold without the warmth of you against. The silence on the drive home was mostly filled by you, as Eddie ran over his next sentences carefully in his head, feeling like he was about to audition for the role of a lifetime and he had to write his own script. He held your hand gently as he walked you to your door, once again starting to fall prey to his inner critic, mentally repeating every unkind thing a jock had called him for the last five years. Only you brought him out of it, as you brushed your hand softly over his cheek,

"I had a really nice time tonight Eddie, thanks for asking me out."

"It was my pleasure sweet (y/n)," he answered with a theatrical bow, already kicking himself for going off script, "I don't suppose you'd want to go out with me again sometime? and then a bunch more times after that? and then have me pretty much everywhere else you go, as your boyfriend..." He trailed off quietly as his sentence ended, eyes glued to the ground while he nervously waited for you to say something. It was an easy decision, once you unravelled his winding question, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a soft kiss much to his relief,

"Of course Eddie, as long as you don't mind having me pretty much everywhere you go, as your girlfriend." You laughed back, watching his eyes light up at your teasing response, feeling his arms tighten around your waist as his lips found yours again. After a final kiss good night you left him at the door, watching through the frosted glass as he practically skipped back to his van, fists pumping the air. You were finally, officially, his girlfriend.

- Once you are officially Eddie's girlfriend, nothing can stop him from bragging about it. He goes to a pep rally for the first time in three years just so he can clap the loudest while you're cheering, making sure everyone around him knows that you're together. Picture him holding your books, walking you to all your classes, arm around your shoulder, joined by his jacket whenever the temperature drops. This boy is so fucking proud of what an absolute catch you are, and he just wants everyone to see it. You make a point to sit together at lunch a couple of days a week, Eddie always pulling your seat closer to him so he can lean his chin on your shoulder and nuzzle into your neck.

- As promised, Eddie picks you up for school every day, even when he has no intention of going to any of the classes himself. Every morning he will compliment something about your appearance, because you are dangerously beautiful to be in a moving vehicle with, and something about you as a person, because he is just that crazy about you. Followed naturally by five minutes of kissing over the console, Eddie trying to subtly manoeuvre you into his lap, at which point you have to insist he actually starts driving.

- Kissing Eddie is a non-stop rollercoaster, half the time you barely see him appear, he just immediately cups your face and takes your lips with his. He cannot get enough of the soft embrace, forever in awe that this is something he actually gets to do with you. If it doesn't bother you, then he is full on PDA, soft touches and slow tongue at the lunch table until Dustin starts making puking noises at you. If you're being more private he'll settle for pressing his lips to your forehead and shoulder until he has you alone.

- Your bedroom window becomes Eddie's most used door. It starts off for special nights when you have the house to yourself, confused why he doesn't just use the front door, but Eddie insists he needs to master his window entrance. Within two months of dating he appears like clockwork every night, climbing in to settle on the floor with you while you study, claiming he can't do homework without you and that you're the only reason he's actually going to pass his senior year this time. Then he decides he also can't sleep without you so he needs to spend the night, wrapping his arms around you to pull you against his chest in bed, unable and unwilling to let you go in case you turn out to be just a very sweet dream.

- Get ready to get quizzed on all your interests, because Eddie wants to know everything about you. You listen so intently when he talks about metal and Dungeons and Dragons, and having you nod purposefully as he runs campaign ideas past you gives him a rush of joy even greater than his usual D&D rants do. So he wants to make sure he gives you the same undivided support and attention no matter how far outside his comfort zone your hobbies are; he's listening to pop music, picking up fashion terminology, remembering cheer routines, whatever he has to do to return the support he feels like he's always been missing.

- Eddie absolutely melts at the way you instinctively do kind things for him. It really is the little things that show him you care, and he's never had someone look out for him like you do, so he just never gets used to being the object of your affection. Things like asking if he's eaten when he picks you up in the morning and pulling out a spare granola bar when he shakes his head. Realising his shoe is untied when he settles onto a bench beside you and leaning down to carefully tie it while continuing your conversation. Pulling a blanket over him when he shivers at movie night, offering him a sip of whatever you're drinking without saying a word, there are a thousand ways you show Eddie how much you care, and every single one of them is enough to make his heart do a little flip. He is completely smitten and would do anything to keep your kindness directed his way for life.

- Eddie loves that he finally gets to say your name to you as much as he wants to, but that doesn't stop him using ever sickly sweet pet name and compliment in the books. You can hear him half-way across the school shouting "honey!" "gorgeous!" "sweetheart!" "love!" with absolutely no reservations about who hears him. This charmer is forever finding new things to compliment you on, and sweet ways to tell you how much you mean to him. Your personal favourite is when he's been monologuing about something for a while, or you're in a particularly length make out session and he'll pause out of nowhere, getting a thoughtful look on his face and say "You're my best friend." Melts your heart every time and makes you so late for whatever you have planned next.

- Usually you are Eddie's personal source of sunshine and joy, but if you are having a day where you aren't quite feeling yourself or maybe you've got terrible cramps, Eddie will crown himself the king of bad days and be there for anything you need. Want to skip class and get slushies? He's your getaway driver. You want to lie in silence and stare at the ceiling? He'll hold your hand and fetch a pizza when your stomach rumbles. He is there for you through anything, always telling you how much your support means to him, and that he'll always have your back, no matter how dark your day is.

- The next day when you're feeling a bit brighter Eddie will pick you up with a cookie for breakfast in case you didn't have the energy to eat, and then distract you by insisting you feed him half while he drives, playfully nipping at your fingers while you do, with a manic laugh every time he gets you.

- And you are always ready to return the favour, holding his hand extra tight when it seems like the stares from jerks around town are getting him. Reminding him how incredible you know he is, and that just because he's too cool for this town, doesn't mean he's a freak who won't ever fit in anywhere. And at the end of a long day letting him rest his head in your lap while you play with his hair seems to just about melt away any negative thought Eddie has about himself. Staring up at you with his big brown eyes, he knows deep down that if someone as incredible as you cares this much about him, then he must be pretty special after all.

- Speaking of holding Eddie's hand, it's non-stop. Forever fidgeting with his rings, running your fingers over his tattoos, twirling his hair while you cover his face with kisses. He cannot get enough of having your hands on him, like as long as you're touching him, he knows you're real, and you're there for him.

- Eddie has never had much of a plan for his future, living one week to the next without a whole lot of direction. But having you in his life makes him start to think more long term, because now he has something he wants to hold on to for life. Whether you plan on getting a job or going off to college, Eddie knows that someone like you isn't going to stay in the small town of Hawkins forever, but it's too much for him to impose himself on you so he tries to bury his worries deep down, and tell himself it's far enough away that he's getting ahead of himself.

Until one fateful night towards the end of your senior year, the two of you sat on the edge of your bed, listening to a record, fingers intertwined. The question weighed heavily on Eddie's mind as you listened to gentle sway of the music, finally being the one to break his heavy silence,

"Eddie, you know I think you're cool right?" You said lightly, question clearly rhetorical but Eddie wasn't about to let that go.

"You think I'm cool? You must be the first." He laughed, the sound hollow in his chest as his internal war waged.

"Too cool for Hawkins." You continued, looking at Eddie, expression more serious than he was used to seeing from you.

"Are you trying to kick me out of town?" He countered, hiding his nerves behind his easy jokes, your tone knotting his stomach with dread.

"I'm serious Eddie, just listen for a sec." You said, pushing him onto his back and lying next to him, gaze fixed to the ceiling, not wanting to watch his twisting features as you spoke.

"I don't know if you've thought much about what you want to do when you graduate, but I really think that's gonna happen for you this year. And when it does, I know you'll be amazing at whatever you decide to do. You're really gonna be someone Eddie Munson. I know it, Hellfire Club knows it, hell I bet half the school knows it and that's why they feel so threatened by you. And whatever you want to do, I will have your back. But i'm start to getting offer for schools out of Hawkins for next year, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't think about you coming with me. And since I think you'd be amazing anywhere, there's no reason that anywhere can't be the same place I am. And you might already have plans and I understand that. But when you start to think about what you want to do to do after high school, just consider this me throwing my hat in the ring." You mimed throwing a hat across to the room, turning to find Eddie staring up at you with glistening eyes, a single tear already sliding across the bridge of his nose. It was like his entire life had just fallen into place, and you were the golden thread that held it all together. You believed in him, even when he didn't believe in himself, and you wanted him. Not just for now, not just in Hawkins, but for the future too. You were the partner he'd always dreamed of, but never he thought he'd be lucky enough to have. Pushing himself up on to his elbows he leaned his face over yours, not bothering to wipe the tears that fell as he spoke,

"There's only one thing I'm certain I want from my future, and that's you."

NSFW Headcanons

- Eddie wants nothing more than to be handsy with you, the feel of your soft skin under his fingertips keeping him up all night after even the most innocent touches. But baby boy is so worried about coming on too strong, or making you uncomfortable and proving everyone right that he is a freak, that he would need a lot of encouragement to get there.

One night before a party at Harrington's you walked into Eddie's room to find him about to paint his nails his signature shade of black. His eyes lit up as you entered the small space, slowly taking in your short skirt and sweater combo, once again thanking whatever higher being he could think of that you were his.

"May I?" You nodded to the small bottle of polish in his hands, snapping him out of your spell with a happy nod.

"I've got to look my best for a night with my favourite person." He grinned, slowly learning not to hold back his feelings from you, not wanting his insecurities to stop you knowing how truly special you are to him. You shifted yourself to his lap, straddling his legs with your knees bent so you could watch the slow bob of his Adam's apple as you shifted over his centre. Gently taking the nail varnish brush in one hand, and his left fingers in the other, you began painting carefully, speaking softly as you did,

"You're my favourite person too Eddie. And I always think you look perfect." You admired his left hand and, satisfied with your efforts, placed it on the top of your left thigh, just shy of the hem of your skirt. You watched his eyes stare at his painted nails settled on your fleshy thigh as you worked on the other one, his lips pursed in concentration as he tried to control the tense breath building in his chest. The way you carefully rotated his hand as you worked, the warmth of your touch, and your lips occasionally blowing on his freshly painted nails had Eddie in an awestruck silence, praying you couldn't feel his reaction to you building in his jeans. Your eyes flicked back to his happily as you set his finished hand on the top of your other leg,

"Do you like that Eddie?" He gulped at your mischievous grin, mouth slightly agape.

"What?" Was all he could muster in response, eyes wide as he followed your gaze back down to his hands.

"I said do you like them? Your nails?" You repeated, fighting back a laugh at his clearly overwhelmed expression, starting to notice his reaction to having you sat across him.

"Shit, yeah of course, you're a lot better at this than me. They're perfect," He gulped, smile spreading back across his face as he tried to win back his composure, before adding, "You're perfect."

Your heart practically overflowed with the way he was looking at you, completely unashamedly captivated by your presence, and your hands quickly looped around his neck, pulling his lips against yours. Your fingers brushed over the nape of his neck, weaving through his soft hair, knowing that playing with his hair was the easiest way to reduce Eddie to putty in your hands. He hummed against your lips, chest leaning forwards in his endless quest to be as close to you as possible. As his lips parted to welcome your tongue, his hands almost trembling as they role past the hem of your skirt, the contact with your bare thighs enough to have his skin burning with anticipation. You pulled back with a yelp, "Eddie stop!"

He froze in fear before shooting his hands up in the air, eyes wide with remorse.

"Shit (y/n), I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have done that without asking, I just thought..."

You cut off his panic with a kiss, taking his face in your hands and looking deep into his frightened eyes as you reassured him,

"Eddie I said stop because your nails are wet and I don't want any black polish on my skirt okay? But you didn't do anything wrong, and I'm not uncomfortable." You said seriously, waiting for Eddie to process it, before he softly nodded and relaxed a little, still looking apologetically back at you. You wrapped your arms around his neck again as you continued, rolling your hips against his to emphasise your point, "I promise as soon as your nails are dry, you put your hands anywhere you want on me okay?" At this point Eddie's timid expression morphed into a devilish grin, his mind already racing as your lips found his again, making sure he was left with no doubt about how badly you wanted his touch.

- Once you establish that, expect Eddie's hands to leave your thighs, hips, and bum as rarely as is humanly possible. Any time the two of you are alone, Eddie pulls you back over his lap, fingertips trailing under the hem of your skirt to grip your hips and pull you against him, moaning at the feel of your centre brushing over his. Eddie hasn't exactly had a lot of experience with girls, and he thinks having you sat over his thighs is the sexiest view in the world, so 99% of the time when you straddle his lap you find him already hard and desperately worked up thinking about you.

- From your position straddling his lap, Eddie loves to work his fingers up your inner thighs, hand shaking from his own excitement as he brushes over your panties, gleefully watching the bliss in your face as he rubs your clit through the soft fabric. The friction of his touch leaves you rocking your hips against him, his own hard excitement growing as you grind against him. By the time his fingers slip inside your underwear there's already a wet patch there just for him that leaves him struggling not to finish at just the feel of you. Gently adding one finger at a time to your core, pumping steadily to watch your chest rise and fall as the heat inside you builds, his name pouring from your lips, an even more beautiful sound than his precious guitar. Your lips find his neck as your climax draws closer, sucking the same spot along his jaw that always has his hips twitching beneath you, accepting the first few times he does this that he's going to end up spilling over himself inside his jeans, just from being this close to you. The rocking of his hips as he comes is enough to have you clenching around his fingers, crying out his name as pleasure washes over you both. Expect this all to happen about half the times Eddie gives you a lift somewhere, or sneaks into your room, and definitely a few times if you get to Hellfire while he's still setting up, especially if you're in your cheer uniform that day. You just have him that excited for you.

- We all know that Eddie would go down on you like a man starved. And maybe that's because he has been so starved for affection and touch, but the way he works when he's on his knees, you would never know you're the only person he's done this with. He'd take so much pride in making you feel incredible, ignoring his own hips rutting against the bed frames as he pins your hips in place with one hand, feeling the familiar tremble of your legs as he makes you come for the third time that night, leaving a trail of kisses, and one ravenous bite mark, on your inner thigh to stake his claim.

- When it's time to return the favour though, Eddie is a bashful gentleman. The first time you say you want to give him a blowjob he would look so blankly at you, you'd think he didn't hear a word you said. But he did, he just can't quite believe this is actually happening, that you (y/n) (y/l/n) want to do that for him. And he's so quick to say you don't have to and that he's happy to focus on you instead, and you would have to insist that he spends so much time making you feel incredible that you are desperate to return the favour. And so he finds himself staring down at you on your knees like the work of art you truly are, slowly licking his tip and watching the shudder run through him at the contact. His eyes want to relax shut but he daren't look away from the blessing he's witnessing as you slowly take him between your lips, the soft flesh of your inner cheeks the loveliest feeling he has ever known. His knuckles are pure white as he grips the bedsheets, fighting back the instinct to move his hips deeper, watching you gradually take more and more of him into your throat. High, sweet moans would slip from his lips as you move, your pleased glances up sending him further and further into heaven. It won't be long until he's panting, overwhelmed by your warm, wet kiss and frantically trying to warn you he's close. With a knowing glint in your eye you'd work your head faster, nails scraping along his inner thighs as he cries your name, releasing inside you. Watching you swallow his load and lick your lips before rising back up to his lap might be Eddie's favourite sight ever.

- I think despite being a rampantly horny 20 year old virgin, Eddie would want to wait until you had been together a little while before your first time together, to make sure it is special for you both. [I have a whole other fic idea for this, but the general highlights of sex with Eddie would include:] His desperate need to hold every part of your skin, leaving bruises across your hips from his desperate, pawing hands. His lips working across your chest, barely coming up for air, running his tongue over your nipples softly to feel your back arch up to meet him. Eddie moving a mirror around the room so even in Doggy style he can watch your blissed out face, absolutely smitten with the fact that he gets to make you feel that way. He would consider foreplay the most important part of being together, even just for quickies, putting your pleasure above all else, never ever taking you for granted.

- Cuddles after sex are a must, his hands still brushing over you softly while you talk, telling you how perfect everything is and how special you are to him, and how incredibly your body is. Stay lying together like this for too long and Eddie's wandering hand will inevitably find itself settling between your legs again, gently running over your sensitive entrance, desperate to give you just one more orgasm and relishing the opportunity to push his leaking cum back inside of you, to always be inside of you.